*  PERIODS 


'^LITERATURE 

'''iiiiliiiiii!^  • ' 


JAMES    K.MOFFITT 


PAULINE  FORE  MOFFITT 
LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
GENERAL  LIBRARY,  BERKELEY 


''T^^ 


^rriotis  of  lEuropean  Uttrraturr 

EDITED   BY 

PEOFESSOR    SAINTSBURY 


I. 


THE    DAEK    AGES 


PERIODS   OF    EUROPEAN    LITERATURE. 

Edited  by  Professor  SAINTSBURY. 

A    COMPLETE  AND   CONTINUOUS  HISTORY  OF  THE  SUBJECT. 
lu  12  Crowu  8vo  Volumes. 


"The  criticism  lohich  alone  can  much  help  %is  for  the  future 
is  a  criticism  which  regards  Europe  as  being,  for  intellect^ial 
and  spiritual  pxcrposes,  one  great  confederation,  hound  to  a  joint 
action  and  working  to  a  common  result.'' 

— Matthew  Arnold. 


I.  The  DARK  AGES 

II.  The    FLOURISHING      OF      ROMANCE 
AND  THE   RISE  OF   ALLEGORY  . 
IIL  The   FOURTEENTH   CENTURY      . 
IV.  The  TRANSITION   PERIOD     . 

V.  The   EARLIER  RENAISSANCE       . 
VI.  The   LATER  RENAISSANCE   . 
VII.  The  FIRST  HALF  of  17th  CENTURY  . 
VIII.  The  AUGUSTAN  AGES    .... 
IX.  The   MID-EIGHTEENTH   CENTURY       . 
X.  The   ROMANTIC   REVOLT 
XI.  The   ROMANTIC  TRIUMPH    . 
XII.  The   LATER   NINETEENTH  CENTURY 


Professor  W.  P.  Ker. 

The  Editor. 

F.  J.  Snell. 

G.  Gregory  Smith. 
The  Editor. 
David  Hannay. 

Professor  H.  .1.  C.  Grierson. 

Professor  O.  Elton. 

J.  H.  Millar. 

Professor  C.  E.  Vauohan. 

T.  S.  Omond. 

The  Editor. 


CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS,  New  York. 


THE    DAKK    AGES 


BY 


W.    P.    KEE 


FELLOW   OF   ALL   SOULS   COLLEGE,    OXFORD  *, 
PROFESSOR   OF   KNGLISH    LITF.RATURE    IN   UNIVERSITY   COLLEOE,    LONDON 


SECOND    IMPRESSION 


NEW     YORK 
CHAKLES     SCRIBNER'S     SONS 

153-157    FIFTH    AVENUE 
1911 


A 11  Rights  reserved 


'^  J^a^fr  \^\>'^ 


GIFT 


PREFACE. 


The  scope  of  this  book  is  described  in  the  Introduc- 
tion (chapter  i.)  and  in  the  Editor's  account  of  the 
whole  series,  in  the  next  vohrnie,  so  that  there  is 
the  less  need  for  a  formal  Preface.  It  may  be  ex- 
plained, however,  that  some  freedom  has  been  used 
in  the  selection  and  arrangement  of  matter.  Old 
English  literature  has  been  treated,  for  example, 
with  less  detail  than  Icelandic,  because  it  is  more 
familiar  ground  in  this  country,  and  has  been  well 
described  in  many  recent  works.  In  Icelandic, 
the  poems  of  the  Elder  Edda  have  been  taken 
as  more  important  than  anything  else,  but  very 
little  is  said  of  the  problems  of  their  date  and 
origin.  The  notes  on  Irish  and  Welsh  literature 
are  intended  merely  as  illustrations  of  certain  gen- 
eral topics ;  a  fuller  account  was  hardly  possible : 
as  it  is,  this  chapter  trespasses  too  far  in  regions 
where  the  author  has  no  special  credentials.  At 
the   end  of   the    book  it  was  found   unnecessary  to 


122 


VI  PREFACE. 

make  any  recapitulation,  because  things  are  snmmed 
up  already,  to  the  best  of  the  writer's  power,  in 
chapter  ii.  (The  Elements),  and  also  becanse  the  way 
is  easy  and  unimpeded  from  Koncesvalles  at  the 
close  of  this  volume  to  the  French  heroic  poetry  in 
the  next  period.  I  regret  that  the  newly  discovered 
Chancun  de  Willame  should  have  appeared  too  late 
to  be  recorded  in  its  proper  place.  I  take  this  oppor- 
tunity of  referring  to  the  article  on  the  subject  by 
M.  Paul  Meyer  in  Romania,  and  of  thanking  the 
unknown  benefactor  who  has  printed  this  epic  of 
William  of  Orange — older,  it  would  seem,  than  the 
poem  of  Aliscans. 

The  following  works,  among  others,  have  been  of 
very  great  service:  Ebert,  Allyemeine  Geschichte  der 
Liter atur  des  Mittelalters  in  Ahendlande,  1874-1887 ; 
Grober's  account  of  mediaeval  Latin  literature  in  his 
Grundriss  der  romanischen  Philologie ;  Mone,  Latein- 
ische  Hymnen  des  Mittelalters,  1853-1855;  Edelestand 
du  M^ril,  Poesies  populaires  latines  ant^rieuses  au 
douzidvie  Sidcle,  1843  (in  which  will  be  found  the 
specimens  of  Latin  popular  poetry  quoted  in  chapter 
iii.  pp.  208-217) ;  Poole,  Illustrations  of  the  History 
of  Medieval  Thought,  1884;  Paul,  Grundriss  der  ger- 
manischen  Philologie ;  Corpus  Poeticum  Boreale,  edited 
by  Gudbrand  Vigfusson  and  F.  York  Powell,  Oxford, 
1883  ;  Eddica  Minora,  by  Ranisch  and  Heusler,  1903, 
containing  the  old-fashioned  Northern  poems  that  are 
not   included   in   the  great  Copenhagen   manuscript; 


PREFACE.  Vii 

Finnur  Jonsson's  history  of  old  Norwegian  and  Ice- 
landic literature  {Den  oldnorske  og  oldislandske  Litter- 
aturs  Historie,  1894);  Kelle,  GescMcUe  der  deiUschen 
Litteratur,  1892-1896  ;  KruDibacher,  Geschichte  der 
hyzantinischen  Litteratur,  second  edition,  1897. 

Mr  Stevenson's  welcome  edition  of  Asser,  with 
strong  arguments  in  favour  of  the  Life  of  Alfred  as 
an  authentic  work,  has  only  been  published  within 
the  last  few  days. 

I  am  greatly  indebted  to  Mr  H.  W.  C.  Davis  of 
Balliol  for  many  suggestions  in  chapter  iii. ;  to  Dr 
Kuno  Meyer  for  advice  about  Celtic  literature;  and 
to  Mr  Saintsbury  for  his  editorial  care  throughout. 

W.  P.  K. 

London,  25<A  Januat-y  1904. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER    I. 

PAGE 

INTRODUCTION  ...,.,*! 

CHAPTER    II. 

THE   ELEMENTS. 

The  Liberal  Arts— History — Mythology  and  Legend— Tlie  Heroic 

Poeiu — Coumionplaces  and  common  forms      ,  .  .24 

CHAPTEE     III. 

LATIN   AUTHORS. 

The  sixth  centiTty — Boethius—Cassiodorus—Fortunatus— Gregory 
of  Tours— Gregory  the  Great— The  Dark  Age— Isidore— Bede 
— Adamnan — The  revival  of  learning  under  Charles  the  Great 
— Alcuin — The  philosophy  of  Erigena — The  Caroline  poets — 
Theodulfus— Ermoldus  Nigellus — Walafrid  Strabo — Historians 
— Einhard— Paulus  Diaconus— The  Monk  of  St  Gall— The  Age 
of  the  Saxon  emperors — Hrotswitha — Liutprand — Widukind 
— Richer — Ekkehard — Gerbert. 

The  history  of  popular  Latin  verse  —  Bede's  prosody  of 
rhythmical  poetry — The  Ambrosian  hymns — St  Augustine — 
The  sequences  —  Various  experiments — Northern  themes  in 
Latin— Waltharius—Ruodlieb—J/c'c^its  Florum,  &c.    .  .        96 


X  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER    IV. 

THE   TEUTONIC   LANGUAGES. 

Rules  of  verse — Old  High  German  poetry — Uildebrand-  -Miispilli 
— Otfrid  —  Saxon  and  Anglo-Saxon  poetry  —  Beowulf  and 
Byrhtnoth — Csedmon — The  Saxon  Genesis — Cynewulf — The 
elegies — Norse  and  Icelandic  poetry — The  Elder  Edda,  and 
other  Northern  poems — Court-poetry  in  the  North. 

German  prose — Gothic,  High  German,  Anglo-Saxon,  Ice- 
landic—  Ulfilas  — The  English  Chronicle — Alfred — ^Ifric  — 
Ari  the  Wise — Notker  the  German       ,  ,  ,  228 

CHAPTER    V. 

IRELAND   AND   WALES  ;    GREECE  ;    THE   ROMANCE   TONGUE. 

Irish  Scholarship — Irish  prose — Deirdre — Tochmarc  Ferbe — Irish 
verse — Wales — Welsh  verse — Welsh  prose  :  The  Mdbinogion — 
Greece  in  the  Dark  Ages — Romaic  Verse — Digenis  Akritas — 
Theodoras  Prodromus — The  Anthology — Byzantine  prose —  > 
The  Romance  languages — French  epic — The  pilgrimage  of 
Charlemagne— ie  Roi  Louis — Roland  .  .  •  .      319 


INDEX  ,  e  .  s  •  •  I  .      <557 


THE    DARK    AGES. 


CHAPTER    I. 

INTRODUCTION. 

The  Dark  Ages  and  the  Middle  Ages— or  tlie  Middle 
Acre — used  to  be  the  same:  two  names  for  the  same 
period.  But  they  have  come  to  be  distinguished, 
and  the  Dark  Ages  are  now  no  more  than  the  first 
part  of  the  Middle  Age,  while  the  term  mediaeval  is 
often  restricted  to  the  later  centuries,  about  1100  to 
1500,  the  age  of  chivalry,  the  time  between  the  first 
Crusade  and  the  Eenaissance.  This  was  not  the  old 
view,  and  it  does  not  agree  with  the  proper  meaning 
of  the  name.  The  Middle  Age,  however  lax  the  in- 
terpretation might  be,  distinctly  meant  at  first  the 
time  between  ancient  and  modern  civilisation.  It 
was  a  large  comprehensive  name  that  covered  every- 
thing between  Eomulus  Augustulas  and  the  taking 
of  Constantinople  by  the  Turks,  or  between  Claudian 
and  the  revival  of  Learning;  it  might  include  any- 

A 


2  EUROPEAN    iMTERATURE — THE   DARK    AGES. 

thing  in  past  history  that  was  too  late  to  be  classical 
and  not  yet  modern,  "The  Monks  finished  what 
the  Goths  begun"  is  Pope's  siunniary  of  the  matter: 
and  again  in  the  Prologue  to  Thomson's  tragedy  of 
Sophonisha  (1*730) — 

"  When  Learning,  after  the  long  Gothic  night, 
Fair  o'er  the  Western  world  renew'd  his  light, 
With  arts  arising  Sophonisha  rose." 

Or,  in  other  words,  the  darkness  of  the  Dark  A^es 
conies  to  an  end  about  the  time  when  Italian  scholars 
reproduce  the  forms  of  classical  poetry  in  tlieir 
modern  tongue.  Trissino's  Soplwnisba,  the  first  Italian 
tragedy  in  regular  form,  was  an  historical  beacon  mark- 
ing the  limit.  Over  the  Gothic  centuries  the  his- 
torian travels  quickly  till  he  comes  to  "at  length 
Erasmus."  It  is  all  dark,  and  it  is  all  "middle." 
The  biographer  of  Dryden's  friend,  Mr  Walter  Moyle, 
expresses  the  common  opinion :  "  From  Ann.  Dom. 
440  to  1440  was  a  long  but  dark  Period  of  Time,  and 
he  aimed  only  to  preserve  a  Thread  of  the  History 
of  that  Middle  Age." 

Goldsmith  was  heretical  and  original  in  his  Inquiry 
into  the  Present  State  of  Polite  Learning  (1759)  when 
he  ended  his  chapter  on  the  Obscure  Ages  much 
earlier,  and  began  the  new  world  of  polite  learning 
with  Dante,  "  who  first  followed  Nature,  and  was 
persecuted  by  the  critics  as  long  as  he  lived."  Gold- 
smith also  tried  to  correct  tlie  ordinary  opinions 
about  the  want  of  learning  in  the  Obscure  Ages. 
"The  most  barbarous  times  had  men  of  learning,  if 


INTRODUCTION.  3 

commentators,  compilers,  polemic  divines,  and  in- 
tricate metaphysicians  deserve  the  title."  But  Gold- 
smith does  not  recognise  what  has  now  come  to  be 
the  commonplace  arrangement  among  most  historians, 
separating  the  Dark  Ages  from  the  "Mediaeval  Period 
properly  so  called,"  which  is  really  improperly  so 
called,  by  a  rather  violent  wresting  of  the  terni 
"  mediaeval."  The  old  division  was  much  more  logical, 
a  consistent  and  definite  refusal  to  see  anything 
worth  the  attention  of  a  scholar  in  the  period  between 
the  fifth  and  the  fifteenth  century.  All  was  "  Gothic," 
all  was  "Dark";  "dans  la  cloaque  des  siecles  cal» 
igineux  et  dans  la  sentine  des  nations  apedeftes," 
as  it  is  expressed  with  unusual  levity  by  the  poet 
Chapelain,  in  his  most  honourable  defence  of  Lancelot 
and  the  old  romances. 

This  old  reckoning  of  "the  long  night  of  the 
Middle  Ages,"  which  Goldsmith  had  begun  to  criti- 
cise, is  preserved  in  full  force  by  one  modern  historian, 
in  terms  that  express  a  very  distinct  opinion,  not 
merely  a  traditional  commonplace:  "The  Graeco*- 
Koman  world  had  descended  into  the  great  hollow 
which  is  roughly  called  the  Middle  Ages,  extending 
from  the  fifth  to  the  tifteenth  century,  a  hollow  in 
which  many  great,  beautiful,  and  heroic  things  were 
done  and  created,  but  in  which  knowledge,  as  we 
understand  it,  and  as  Aristotle  understood  it,  had  no 
place.  The  revival  of  learning  and  the  Renaissance 
are  memorable  as  the  first  sturdy  breasting  by 
humanity  of  the  hither  slope  of  the  great  hollow 
which  lies  between  us  and  the  ancient  world.     The 


4  EUKOPKAN   LITERATURE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

modern  man,  reformed  and  regenerated  by  knowledge, 
looks  across  it  and  recognises  on  the  opposite  ridge, 
in  the  far-shining  cities  and  stately  porticoes,  in  the 
art,  politics,  and  science  of  antiquity,  many  more 
ties  of  kinship  and  sympathy  than  in  the  mighty 
concave  between,  wherein  dwell  his  Christian  ancestry, 
in  the  dim  light  of  scholasticism  and  theology."  ^ 

But  the  Renaissance  does  not  often  nowadays  speak 
with  such  conviction,  and  "  mediseval "  has  generally 
lost  its  meaning  of  '-'dark."  The  change  was  really 
brought  about  by  those  very  books  of  chivalry  for 
which  Chapelain,  the  correct  epic  poet,  made  so  un- 
expected and  so  pleasant  an  apology.  When  Lancelot 
came  back  with  Gawain  "out  of  Faerie,"  when 
"  Gothic  "  —  that  is,  medicieval  —  art  and  literature 
revived  in  credit,  and  "the  fictions  of  the  Gothic 
romances  "  were  more  or  less  restored  to  honour,  then 
followed  naturally  a  new  division  of  history,  throwing 
back  the  darkness,  and  redeeming  the  proper  centuries 
of  romance  from  the  disrepute  that  had  befallen  them. 
The  Crusades,  cathedrals,  tournaments,  old  coloured 
glass  and  other  splendid  things,  coming  to  be  popu- 
larly known  and  appreciated,  naturally  determined 
the  meaning  of  "Middle  Ages"  and  "mediieval"  so 
as  to  denote  especially  the  centuries  to  which  tliese 
matters  belonged — that  is  to  say,  roughly,  from  1100 
to  1500.  "Dark"  ceased  to  be  a  popular  term  for 
times  so  interesting  as  those  of  Ivanhoe,  of  Notre  Dame 
de  Paris,  of  Tannhciitser :  the  change  in  the  meaning 
of  "Gothic"  corresponds  with  this  general  change  of 

*  The  Service  of  Man,  by  James  Cotter  Morison,  1887,  p.  177. 


INTRODUCTION.  0 

the  popular  historical  conception:  "GoLliic,"  with 
all  its  offence  withdrawn,  was  restricted  to  a  type 
of  architecture  not  older  than  the  twelfth  century: 
it  used  to  he  a  common  term  of  contempt  for  every- 
thing in  art,  manners,  and  literature  before  the  return 
of  Greek  grammar  to  the  West. 

The  change  of  view  may  be  defended  as  a  sound 
and  reasonable  one.     The  date  1100  is  an  epoch,  if 
there  is  anything  to  be  called  an  epoch  in  the  whole 
course    of   history,    though    "  mediae  val"    may    be    a 
doubtful  word  for   what   began   then.      The   Middle 
Age,  regarded   as   an   interval  of   confusion  between 
two   periods   of   more   or  less   rational   order,  really 
ended  at  the  close  of  the  eleventh  century.     It  was 
then  that  the  wandering  of  the  German  nations  was 
completed;   out   of   the  Teutonic   anarchy  came   the 
unity    of    Christendom,   consciously   realised    in    the 
enterprise  of  the  first  Crusade.     The  establisliment 
of  the  Normans  in  England  meant  the  end  of  the 
old  roving  business,  however  it  might  be  kept  up  in 
remoter  places  here  and  there.     Magnus  of  Norway, 
the  last  king  of  the  old  fashion,  died  in  1103:  his 
son  was  Sigurd  the  Crusader.     The  Northern  world 
before    1100   was   still   in   great   part    the   world   of 
the  Germania,  with  its  indomitable  liberty,  its  protes- 
tant   self-will;   after   1100  Germania  is  harmonised 
in  the  new  conception  of  Christendom.     Tacitus  gives 
the  key  to  the  earlier  period;   now,  the  interpreter 
is  Dante  in  the  De  Monarchia.     Or  it  might  be  said, 
using  the  words  of  Polybius  when   he   foresaw  the 
uiajesty  of  the  Eoman  Empire,  that  in  1100  history 


6  EUROPEAN    LITEHATURE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

became  "  all  of  one  piece."  If  this  be  illusory  in  some 
ways,  if  the  apparent  unity  of  Christendom  cover 
na  less  misrule  and  unreason  in  the  twelfth  century 
than  went  naked  in  earlier  times,  still  it  is  hardly 
possible  to  mistake  the  growth  of  a  new  spirit,  in 
virtue  of  which  the  different  nations  are  related  more 
closely  than  they  had  ever  been  before. 

One  chief  agent  in  this  change  is  not  religious 
doctrine  nor  politics,  but  the  new  languages.  The 
great  historical  fact  belonging  to  the  close  of  the 
eleventh  century,  besides  the  Crusade,  is  the  appear- 
ance of  French  and  Provengal  poetry,  which  is  the 
beginning  of  modern  literature.  With  hardly  a 
warning  came  the  rhymes  of  William,  Count  of 
Poitou,  the  first  of  a  school  that  includes  every 
modern  poet.  Everything  that  is  commonly  called 
poetry  in  the  modern  tongues  may  in  some  way  or 
other  trace  its  pedigree   back  to  William  of  Poitiers 


sin  "in"- 


"Farai  chansoneta  nova, 
Alls  que  vent  ni  gel  ni  plova  ; 
Ma  domna  ra'  assaj'  em  prova 
Coiisi  de  qual  guiza  I'am." 

The  thrill  of  rhymes  like  these  is  the  first  awaken- 
ing of  the  world  for  that  long  progress  of  literature  in 
which  theEenaissance  and  other  momentous  changes  are 
merely  incidental  and  ordinary  things,  compared  with 
the  miracle  of  their  first  beginning.  About  the  same 
time  also  the  poetry  of  France  declares  itself,  and  the 
French  authors  begin  their  work  of  providing  ideas, 
subjects,  stories,  useful  information,  and   instruction 


INTRODUCTION.  * 

in  manners  for  Spaniards,  Dutch,  Welsh,  Danes, 
English,  and  other  nations;  whereby  the  nations 
altered  their  character  generally,  and  became,  some 
more  and  some  less,  but  all  in  an  appreciable  measure, 
French  in  their  literary  fashions :  as  the  Editor  of  these 
histories  has  explained  in  the  volume  that  follows  this. 
Everything  that  we  can  think  of  in  modern  poetry 
(except  always  the  survivals  and  revivals  of  Teutonic 
alliterative  verse,  and  some  few  other  antiquities)  is 
related  to  the  French  and  Provencal  literature  of  the 
year  1100  as  it  is  not  related  to  anything  in  the  Dark 
Ages— the  earlier  Middle  Age.  There  is  nothing 
abrupt,  no  shock  of  sudden  transition  in  turning  from 
the  verse  of  Goethe,  Hugo,  or  Tennyson,  to  the  rliymes 
of  Provence.     These  are  modern  poems : — 

*'  Quan  la  douss'  aura  venta 
Deves  vostre  pais 
M'es  vejaire  qii'eu  senta 
Odor  de  paradis." 

Or  again : — 

*'  Qaan  vi  la  laudeta  mover 
-De  joi  las  alas  contral  rai, 
Que  s'oblid'  es  laissa  cazer, 

Per  la  doussor  qual  cor  li  v  li." 

Only  the  language  is  difficult  to  a  modern  reader :  there 
is  nothing  old-fashioned  in  the  manner  of  the  verse. 

This  definite  new  beginning  of  French  and  Provencal, 
— which  is  also  the  beginning  of  Spanish  and  Italian, 
and  a  fresh  opening  for  English  and  German  poetry, 
— while  it  is  a  term  from  which  to  reckon  the  life 
of  a  new  world,  is  no  less  decisively  the  end  of  an  old 


8  EUllOPEAN   LITERATURE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

one,  ill  literary  history,  at  any  rate.  Tlie  Park  Ages 
in  the  history  of  literature  are  distinctly  a  period : 
they  have  a  definite  end,  whatever  their  beginning 
may  have  been.  Their  end  is  marked  by  the  appear- 
ance of  the  new  Eomance  languages  and  their  poetry, 
which  take  captive  the  Teutonic  countries,  and  destroy 
tlie  chances  of  the  old  Teutonic  manner  of  composing 
verse.  The  Teutonic  fashions  are  displaced,  on  their 
own  ground.  No  Teutonic  verse  is  so  near  to  modern 
English  poetry  as  the  Provencal  measures  are.  When 
Wordsworth  imitates  the  stanza  of  Burns  he  is  really 
imitating  William  of  Poitou,  who  used  it  seven 
hundred  years  earlier :  the  melody  of  Bernard  de 
Ventadour — 

"Quart  la  douss'  aura  venta" — 

may  be  heard  in  any  number  of  modern  poets.  With- 
out any  archaism  or  any  difficult  research,  Victor  Hugo 
can  repeat  the  patterns  of  verse  that  were  in  vogue  in 
the  days  of  St  Lewis.  It  is  a  different  thing  with 
verse  of  the  old  Teutonic  school.  It  is  possible  to 
understand  it,  but  in  spite  of  blood-relationship  its 
character  is  strange^  The  beginning  of  Volospd,  for 
example,  the  old  Northern  hymn  of  the  Doom,  is  some- 
thing unfamiliar,  as  an  Arabic  verse  might  be.  It  is 
not  of  our  own  life,  in  the  same  intimate  way  as  the 
Provencal  measures : — 

"Before  the  years,  when  Naught  was  ;  was  neither  sand  nor 
sea  nor  cold  billows ;  earth  was  seen  not,  nor  high  heaven ;  there 
was  the  gap  gaping,  and  grass  nowhere." 

"  Ar  vas  alda,  l?at  es  ekki  vas  ; 
Vasa  sandr  ne  sser  ne  svalar  unnir." 


INTRODUCTION.  9 

It  belongs  to  the  humanities,  but  it  is  not  modern. 
The  form  is  not  that  of  the  modern  world.  But  the 
relations  of  the  Provencal  school  are  everywhere, 
and  they  can  be  proved  by  liistorical  evidence  with- 
out any  hazardous  speculation  on  poetical  affinities 
They  include  all  sorts  and  degrees  of  poets.  By  con- 
trast with  what  precedes  1100,  the  whole  of  modern 
poetry  since  then  appears  like  one  community.  Dr 
Watts  is  related  not  distantly  to  i^riosto,  if  one  looks  at 
the  connections  of  literary  schools  from  a  point  at  the 
close  of  the  Dark  Ages.  The  chief  rules  of  their  art 
were  fixed  for  them  when  the  Dark  Ages  came  to  an 
end :  not  in  any  definite  manner  earlier  than  that,  but 
long  before  the  Eenaissance. 

The  Dark  Ages  in  their  more  limited  meaning,  and 
for  the  editoiial  purposes  of  this  Series,  are  the  centur- 
ies of  the  barbarian  migration,  before  the  establishment 
of  the  Eomance  literatures,  or  of  the  kind  of  civilisa- 
tion that  is  implied  in  tliem.  Of  literature  in  the 
Eomance  tongues  there  is  little  more  than  the  rudi- 
ments to  be  considered  before  the  eleventh  century. 
The  richest  vernacular  literature  of  the  Dark  A^es  is 
found  in  other  regions.  The  chief  part  of  it,  for 
students  in  this  country,  in  spite  of  the  fascinations  of 
the  Celtic  genius,  must  be  the  body  of  the  older 
Teutonic  poetry  in  the  Teutonic  alliterative  verse. 
This  belongs  properly  to  the  Dark  Ages ;  and  it  comes 
to  an  end  with  almost  as  certain  a  date  in  history  as 
that  from  which  the  succeeding  schools  of  Eomance 
begin.  It  comes  to  an  end  before  the  Crusades,  ex- 
cept in  Iceland,  the  dissident  and  long-resisting  country 


10  EUROPEAN   LITERATURE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

where  the  old  forms  of  language  and  poetic  diction  are 
better  protected  than  elsewhere  against  innovation, 
especially  against  the  innovations  of  the  Eomance 
tongues  and  their  poetry.  Everywhere  else  the  old 
forms  of  Teutonic  literature  disappear  and  are  replaced 
by  novelties;  also  the  language  changes.  At  the  same 
time  as  the  new  literatures  of  France  and  Provence 
make  their  appearance,  the  older  German  tongues  are 
greatly  altered.  There  is  a  new  English  and  a  new 
German  in  the  twelfth  century :  in  the  profession  of 
Philology  they  are  called  Middle  English  and  Middle 
German,  so  that  the  authority  of  Grammar  is  added  to 
that  of  Politics  and  Khetoric  in  marking  a  date  about 
1100  as  a  division  between  an  older  and  a  younger 
system  of  things. 

In  Latin,  which  is  the  principal  language  of  the 
Dark  Ages,  there  is  no  such  decisive  limit, — indeed 
there  is  no  limit  at  all  to  the  Latin  of  these  times. 
The  old  Teutonic  literature  does  not  begin  till  the 
darkness  has  set  in;  it  belongs  to  the  nations  who, 
according  to  the  usual  reckoning,  were  the  causes  of 
the  darkness, — the  "  Goths  "  of  Pope's  summary, — and 
it  ends,  or  at  any  rate  it  changes  from  "Old"  to 
"Middle"  with  the  beginning  of  the  next  period. 
But  the  Latin  literature  descends  without  a  break 
from  classical  times,  and  it  lasts  for  centuries  after 
the  old  German  tongues  have  been  forgotten. 

The  Teutonic  nations  brought  new  languages  and 
new  subject-matters  into  the  system  of  European 
literature ;  they  also  brought  originality.  The  Lati.i 
authors  had   a   different  kind  of  work  to  do ;   they 


INTRODUCTION.  II 

carried  on  the  traditions  of  classical  education ;  they 
taught  the  liberal  arts ;  they  collected  material  for 
natural  and  civil  history,  and  expounded  it;  they 
preserved  the  classical  forms  of  verse  ari  prose,  with 
modifications  according  to  their  taste  ;  they  served  the 
Church  in  the  teaching  of  Divinity.  In  one  kind  of 
composition  only  are  they  innovators ;  the  rhyming 
hymns  are  the  original  Latin  poetry  of  the  Dark  Ages; 
apart  from  these  the  universal  language  is  employed 
for  purposes  of  education — to  convey  knowledge,  or  to 
illustrate  in  rhetoric  the  precepts  of  the  schools.  So 
it  had  been  before  the  Dark  Ages  began,  and  so  it 
continued  afterwards.  The  Latin  literature  of  the 
Dark  Ages  has  not  a  definite  character  of  its  own,  in 
the  same  way  as  the  old  Teutonic  poetry.  That  body 
of  poetry  belongs  properly  to  the  centuries  from  the 
sixth  to  the  eleventh.  The  Latin  literature  of  the 
Dark  Ages  is  not  their  exclusive  property  ;  it  begins 
before  them  and  is  continued  after  them  ;  its  period 
is  a  much  longer  one,  a  period  which  at  the  lowest 
reckoning  includes  the  whole  of  the  Middle  Age 
in  the  old  wide  sense  of  the  term,  down  to  the 
Eevival  of  Learning.  Even  this  is  too  narrow,  for  the 
Latin  literature  of  the  Middle  Ages  is  in  many  things 
conservative,  and  it  is  difficult  to  stop  in  tracing  it 
back  to  its  sources :  many  of  its  favourite  ideas  and 
principles  are  those  of  Cicero,  and  many  of  them  were 
in  his  time  far  from  new ;  and  at  the  other  end  of  the 
history  there  may  be  found  a  similar  difficulty  when 
things  supposed  to  be  peculiarly  mediseval  show  them- 
selves proof  against  the  Eenaissance,  surviving  quite 


12  EUROPEAN    LITERATURE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

happily  in  the  minds  and  writings  of  humanist  re- 
formers. The  German  literature  of  the  Dark  Ages 
makes  one  group  of  writings  with  a  life  and  character 
of  its  own  ;  the  Latin  literature  is  merely  a  section, 
with  an  arbitrary  date  to  mark  the  dividing-line. 

In  the  vernacular  literatures  there  is,  of  course,  a 
great  deal  which,  as  far  as  ideas  and  matters  are  con- 
cerned, really  belongs  to  Latin.  Not  all  the  ver- 
nacular literature  is  fresh,  barbarous,  and  original ; 
much  of  it  is  translation,  much  is  adaptation  and 
exposition  of  Latin  knowledge.  The  significant  dis- 
tinction for  the  Dark  Ages  is  not  between  Latin  and 
vernacular  utterance,  but  between  Latin  and  barbarian 
ideas.  For  instance,  the  works  of  ^Ifric  or  of  Notker 
Labeo  belong  to  the  Latin  world,  the  common  educa- 
tional tradition.  They  are  Teutonic  in  speech,  and 
they  come  into  the  history  of  English  and  German 
culture.  But  they  are  not  English  and  German  liter- 
ature in  the  same  way  as  the  heroic  poems  about 
Sigemund  or  Hildebrand. 

In  all  sorts  of  ways  the  two  influences  cross  and 
mingle,  to  pass  into  the  blended  stream  of  the  later 
mediccval  literature.  One  of  the  qreat  attractions  of 
the  Dark  Ages  is  that  they  exhibit,  sometimes,  more 
clearly  than  was  possible  later,  a  dillerent  kind  of 
literary  tradition  from  the  classical ;  the  pure  elements 
contributed  by  the  barbarians  to  the  literary  art  of 
Europe.  The  value  of  this  may  have  been  exaggerated 
or  wrongly  judged  by  enthusiasts.  But  no  exagger- 
ation, and  no  reaction  against  it,  can  destroy  the 
importance  for  literary  history  of  the  remains  of  that 


INTRODUCTION.  13 

Teutonic  poetry  which  was  least  affected  by  Eome. 
Whatever  its  intrinsic  value,  it  gives  the  starting- 
ground,  the  background,  the  relief,  in  relation  to 
which  the  new  schools  of  the  twelfth  century  are 
to  be  estimated. 

The  Latin  literature  and  the  Teutonic  literature  of 
the  Dark  Ages  make  up  a  considerable  body  of 
writings,  but  there  are  others  besides,  other  languages 
and  authors  belonging  to  the  history  of  the  world 
and  entering  more  or  less  into  the  common  traffic 
of  ideas.  Greek,  Celtic,  and  Arabian  authors  have 
a  claim  to  be  noticed  in  any  full  account  of  the 
literary  productions  of  those  centuries. 

Greek  in  the  Dark  Ages  has  influence  upon  the 
West  for  the  most  part  indirectly:  either  through 
its  old-established  partnership  in  Latin  culture,  or  in 
ways  not  literary  at  all,  by  means  of  travellers,  pilots, 
and  traders ;  so  that  what  comes  through  is  generally 
either  ancient,  if  there  is  any  scholarship  in  it,  or 
unscholarly,  if  it  is  new.  The  part  of  Greece,  how- 
ever, as  an  intermediary  between  the  East  and  the 
West,  and  a  channel  of  information,  is  of  very  great 
importance  for  the  history  of  literary  intercourse  and 
the  distribution  of  popular  stories  and  popular  science 
of  all  kinds.  After  Greek  had  ceased  to  exercise  any 
distinctly  literary  influence  on  the  West  other  than 
that  which  had  long  been  known,  if  not  exhausted, 
in  the  rhetorical  schools,  it  continued  to  provide  new 
matters  for  amusement  and  edification;  saints'  lives 
and  fables,  romances  like  that  of.  Alexander,  like 
Apollonius  of   Tyre:  while   doubtless  in  many   easy 


H  EUKOPEAN   LITERATURE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

ways,  without  writing  or  literary  form,  it  lielped  to 
carry  westward  the  themes  of  Eastern  stories  for 
the  future  profit  of  minstrels.  It  gave  the  Physiologus 
to  all  the  modern  tongues ;  it  translated  the  Buddha 
into  the  legend  of  Barlaam  and  Josaphat. 

Arabian  literature  affects  the  West  in  a  somewhat 
similar  way.  Arabian  learning,  itself  derived  from 
Greek,  passes  into  Western  Christendom  through  the 
Schools,  which  bring  it  into  conformity  with  the 
accepted  educational  usages.  Arabian  fancy  makes 
its  way  by  the  contraband  metliods  of  popular  story- 
telling. Aucassin  and  Nicolette,  Flores  and  Blanche- 
floiire,  may  well  be  Moorish  stories.  But  their 
descent  is  not  recorded,  except  in  their  character, 
their  manner,  some  facts  of  custom  that  they  imply 
(the  serraglio  in  Flores),  and  the  etymology  of  a 
name  {Aucassin).  They  have  no  literary  ancestry 
that  can  be  traced  in  books.  I'he  Arabic  literature 
that  was  produced  in  the  Dark  Ages  is  not  related 
to  the  West  in  any  literary  manner.  The  Arabians 
give  scientific  matter,  and  they  give  the  subjects  of 
stories,  but  their  own  literature  is  something  apart. 
It  was  "  not  destined  to  be  ours,"  though  the  student 
of  heroic  poetry  may  turn  for  a  moment  from  the 
themes  of  Attila  or  Sigfred  to  admire  the  temper  of 
the  Arabian  Dark  Ages — *'the  Ignorance" — before 
the  chivalrous  imagination  of  their  earlier  poets  was 
transformed  by  the  False  Prophet  and  his  polygamous 
inethodism.  As  critics  of  life,  the  old  Arabian  poets 
may  compare  with  the  most  heroic  autliors  in  the 
North,  or  even  with  Odin  himself. 


INTRODUCTION.  15 

"But  as  for  my  people,  though  their  number  be  not  small, 

they  are  good  for  naught  against  evil,  however  light  it  be. 
They  requite  witli  forgiveness  the  wrong  of  those  that  do  them 
wrong, 
and  the  evil  deeds  of  the  evil  they  meet  with  kindness  and 
love ; 
As  though  thy  Lord  had  created  among  the  tribes  of  men 
themselves  alone  to  fear  him  and  never  one  man  more. 
Would  that  I  had  in  their  stead  a  folk  who,  when  they  ride 
forth, 
strike  swiftly  and  hard,  on  horse  or  on  camel  borne  !  "^ 

The  case  of  the  Celtic  literatures,  Welsh  and  Gaelic, 
might  seem  at  first  to  be  quite  analogous  to  that  of 
Greek  or  Arabic.  Here  again  are  masters  and 
teachers  who  have  a  large  share  in  making  the  system 
of  education  for  the  whole  of  the  West ;  missionaries 
and  scholars  who  give  the  spirit  of  their  lives  to 
animate  the  brutish  mass  and  turn  it  into  Cliristen- 
dom.  Here  again  the  work  of  the  teachers  is  made 
by  their  pupils  to  conform  to  the  general  type,  and  the 
national  and  local  character,  when  it  gets  away  from 
home,  is  for  the  most  part  obliterated  and  merged 
in  the  common  tradition.  Though  there  may  be 
"  sentimental  traces  "  of  the  Celtic  ancestor  at  Jarrow, 
or  at  St  Gall,  never  wholly  lost  either  in  the  Teutonic 
or  in  the  common  Latin  features,  still  the  Celtic 
character  is  never  other  than  subordinate  in  the 
schools  of  the  Scot  abroad  ;  just  as  the  Greek  and 
the  Arabian  character  have  to  be  assimilated  to 
the  common  Latin  temper.     The  Celtic  imagination 

^  From  the  first  poem  in  Sir  Charles  Lyall's  Translations  oj  Ancient 
Arabian  Poetry,  1885. 


16  EUROPEAN   LITERATURE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

again  may  be  found  in  the  romances  of  the  Middle 
Ages  in  the  same  way  as  Greek  or  Arabian  fictions 
there  ;  unmistakable,  but  without  an  authentic  history 
to  explain  its  presence.  The  prose  and  poetry  of 
the  Celtic  tongues  are  as  unfamiliar  to  most  people 
as  tlie  poetry  of  Arabia  in  the  Ignorance,  and  far 
less  available  for  modern  students  than  the  later 
literature  of  Greece.  They  belong  in  date  to  the 
Dark  Ages,  but  are  they  a  proper  part  of  the  subject 
for  an  historical  sketch  which  is  bound  to  keep  to  the 
principal  lines  of  progress,  and  to  avoid  the  tempta- 
tions of  Bypath  Meadow  ?  Celtic  literature  is  part 
of  the  subject  by  something  other  than  the  mere 
obligation  of  dates,  and  for  another  reason  than  the 
indebtedness  of  Western  Europe  to  its  Irish  teachers, 
great  as  tliat  is.  Celtic  is  the  counterpart  of  Teutonic, 
closely  related  in  its  origin,  as  is  proved  in  a  thousand 
ways,  and  exposed  to  the  same  influences.  Early 
Irish  and  Welsh  literature,  like  early  English  and 
Icelandic,  is  largely  that  of  an  heroic  age,  which  has 
borrowed  its  pens  and  ink  from  Latin  clerks,  and 
is  never  wholly  exempt  from  the  touch  of  Latin  learn- 
ing. The  literary  problems  of  the  Irish  and  the  early 
English  were  nearly  alike  :  both  wanted  to  find  the 
best  way  of  story-telling ;  both  were  attached  to  the 
heroic  traditions  of  their  own  people ;  both  were 
obliged  to  trim  between  their  natural  affection  for 
mythology  and  their  duties  in  the  schools.  They 
followed  different  methods  even  in  the  schools,  where 
the  subjects  were  common  to  both ;  still  more  in  the 
epic  stories,  where    they   were   less  restricted.      But 


INTRODUCTION.  17 

though  it  may  be  possible  to  understand  the  one 
fairly  well  without  the  otlier,  a  history  of  Western 
Christendom  in  the  Dark  Ages  requires  both  Teutonic 
and  Celtic  literature. 

The  Dark  Ages  are  really  and  not  merely  conven- 
tionally separate  from  what  came  after,  in  literature. 
Poets  of  the  twelfth  or  thirteenth  century  in  Frencli 
or  German,  Chrestien  de  Troyes,  Walther  von  der 
Vogelweide,  are  really  part  of  modern  literature : 
their  vocabulary  may  be  difficult,  but  their  poetical 
forms  and  devices,  if  they  trouble  the  beginner  at  all, 
surprise  him  oftener  by  their  familiar  look  than  by 
their  strangeness.  To  go  back  to  the  ninth  or  the 
tenth  century  is  to  find  a  different  world.  Not  only 
are  the  languages  of  a  more  ancient  type :  the  ways 
of  imagination  are  different,  the  tunes  of  poetry  are 
different ;  and  there  are  still  older  things  than  those 
of  the  ninth  century  with  which  the  traveller  has  to 
be  acquainted.  It  is  not  wonderful  that  the  times 
should  have  been  judged  severely  by  scholarly  persons 
who  found  themselves  astray  there.  The  literary 
taste  of  Heorot,  the  Danish  hall  where  Beowulf 
listened  to  poetry,  or  of  the  House  of  the  Eed  Branch, 
where  Conchobar,  king  of  Ulster,  was  at  home,  is  far 
more  difficult  to  appreciate  than  that  of  the  later 
Middle  Ages,  and  almost  as  remote  from  the  prevail- 
ing fashions  of  the  twelfth,  or  the  fourteenth,  as 
from  the  eighteenth  century.  Dr  Johnson  is  hardly 
farther  from  Beoivulf  than  Chaucer  is. 

The  earlier  literature,  it  is  true,  had  some  share  in 
the  great  romantic  movement.     Gray,  though  he  ad- 

B 


18  EUROPEAN    LITERATURE — THE   DARK    AGES. 

mired  Froissart  and  Gawain  Douglas,  went  farther 
back  in  his  researches,  and  his  contributions  to  the 
cause  of  the  romantic  schools  came  from  old  Icelandic 
and  Welsli,  not  from  the  more  familiar  and  generally 
more  profitable  times  of  chivalry.  Some  time  before 
him  Dr  Hickes  had  broken  new  ground  :  his  trans- 
lations from  Anglo-Saxon  and  Icelandic  were  not  left 
to  their  learned  dignity  in  the  great  philological 
Thesaurus.  By  some  happy  fortune  he  had  chosen 
for  translation  one  of  the  Icelandic  poems  about  the 
value  of  which  there  is  least  chance  of  disagreement : 
the  story  of  Hervor  was  noticed,  and  read,  and  copied 
out  of  the  folio  volume  of  Hickes  to  be  included  in  a 
popular  anthology.  Percy's  "  Eunic  Poetry,"  about 
the  same  time  as  Gray's  Descent  of  Odin,  helped  in 
the  same  way  to  revive  some  interest  in  an  order  of 
poetry  more  ancient  than  his  Reliques.  The  success 
of  Macpherson  proved  that  the  Dark  Ages  were  not 
in  themselves  enough  to  alarm  the  reader.  Balclutha 
really  had  some  of  the  work  of  the  Dark  Ages  in 
it,  besides  the  eighteenth -century  restorations  and 
plasterings. 

But  it  is  not  necessary  to  apologise  for  the  things 
touched  upon  in  this  essay,  however  much  the  writer 
may  find  himself  at  fault  in  his  treatment  of  them. 
They  need  interpretation,  as  all  literature  does  when 
its  own  day  is  over.  Many  of  them  are  difficult  and 
strange.  Literature  is  in  some  respects  the  most 
conventional  of  all  the  arts ;  Poetry,  for  all  that  it 
may  boast  of  a  universal  dominion,  changes  its  char- 
acter with   every  province  and  dialect,  one  thing  in 


INTRODUCTION.  19 

Warwickshire,  another  in  Glamorgan  :  it  is  not  won- 
derful that  the  poetry  of  a  thousand  years  ago  in 
a  number  of  old  languages  should  be  unfamiliar  and 
repellent  at  the  first  sight  of  it.  The  essential  thing 
is  to  find  out  whether  and  in  what  sense  it  has  any 
present  value.  As  a  preliminary,  with  regard  to  the 
common  learned  prejudice  against  the  barbarians, 
there  is  nothing  better  nor  more  auspicious  than 
Daniel's  memorable  protest  and  noble  defence: — 

"  Me  thinks  we  should  not  so  soon  yield  our  con- 
sents captive  to  the  authority  of  Antiquity,  unless 
we  saw  more  reason ;  all  our  understandings  are  not 
to  be  built  by  the  square  of  Greece  and  Italy.  We 
are  the  children  of  nature  as  well  as  they ;  we  are 
not  so  placed  out  of  the  way  of  judgement,  but  that 
the  same  sun  of  discretion  shineth  upon  us.  .  .  . 
Time  and  the  turn  of  things  bring  about  these 
faculties  according  to  the  present  estimation ;  and 
Res  temjporihus  non  temfpora  rebus  servire  oportef.  .  .  . 
It  is  not  books  but  only  that  great  book  of  the  world 
and  the  all-overspreading  grace  of  heaven  that  makes 
men  truly  judicial.  Nor  can  it  but  touch  of  arrogant 
ignorance  to  hold  this  or  that  nation  barbarous,  these 
or  those  times  gross,  considering  how  this  manifold 
creature  man,  wheresoever  he  stand  in  the  world,  hath 
always  some  disposition  of  worth,  entertains  the  order 
of  society,  affects  that  which  is  most  in  use,  and  is 
eminent  in  some  one  thing  or  other,  that  fits  his 
humour  and  the  times.  .  .  .  The  Goths,  Vandals, 
and  Longobards,  whose  coming  down  like  an  inun- 
dation overwhelmed,  as  they  say,  all  the  glory  of  learn- 


20  EUROPEAN    LITERATURE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

ing  in  Europe,  have  yet  leffc  us  still  their  laws  and 
customs,  as  the  originals  of  most  of  the  provincial 
constitutions  of  Christendom,  which  being  well  con- 
sidered with  their  other  courses  of  government,  may 
seem  to  clear  them  from  this  imputation  of  ignorance. 
And  though  the  vanquished  never  speak  well  of  the 
conqueror,  yet  even  through  the  unsound  coverings 
of  maledictions  appear  those  monuments  of  truth  as 
argue  well  their  worth,  and  proves  them  not  without 
judgment,  though  without  Greek  and  Latin."  ^ 

To  subdivide  the  literature  of  the  Dark  Ages, 
historically,  is  not  easy,  for  in  the  vernacular  tongues 
the  dates  of  authorship  are  seldom  certain,  often  not 
to  be  fixed  within  a  century  or  two:  while  in  Latin, 
where  some  of  the  ordinary  classification  is  possible, 
it  is  not  remarkably  useful.  The  great  fact  in  Latin 
of  these  days  is  the  decline  and  revival  between  the 
time  of  Gregory  the  Great  and  Charlemagne,  after 
which  there  is  a  fairly  continuous  succession  of 
learned  men  and,  with  many  eccentricities,  no  such 
general  decay  as  happened  in  the  sixth  and  seventh 
centuries.  The  history  of  Latin  is  the  history  of 
education,  and  follows  the  great  schools.  There  is  a 
line  from  Ireland  and  lona  to  Jarrow  and  York,  and 
from  there  to  the  Court  of  Charles.  Alcuin's  school 
at  Tours  is  the  parent  of  the  school  at  Fulda  where 
Hraban  carried  on  the  same  work.  Different  lines  of 
descent  are  united  at  Eeichenau  and  St  Gall,  which 
are  in  relation  with  the  newer  school  at  Fulda  on 
the  one  hand,  and  with  the  Irish  on  the  otlier.     Bede 

'  Daniel,  A  Defence  of  Ryme,  1607. 


INTRODUCTION.  21 

(Jarrow)  taught  Egbert  (York),  who  tanglit  Alciiin 
(Tours),  who  taught  Hraban  (Fulda),  who  taught 
Walafrid  Strabo  (Eeichenau) :  that  pedigree  roughly 
indicates  one  of  the  chief  lines  along  which  literary 
studies  were  carried.  But  the  stages  do  not  mean 
the  same  thing  as  the  literary  generations  in  later 
history,  where  definite  fashions  change  through  all 
sorts  of  ambitious  experiments  and  new  inventions, 
Ben  Jonson  giving  place  to  Dryden,  Eonsard  to  Mal- 
herbe,  and  so  on.  Here  the  life  is  of  a  different  sort. 
In  Latin  there  was  no  opportunity  for  such  triumphs 
and  glories  as  came  later  in  the  new  languages.  Here 
success  meant  obedience  to  the  old  models ;  or  if 
rebellion  took  its  chance  and  tried  to  make  something 
new,  it  was  always  something  exceptional,  and  often 
turned  out  to  be  exceptional  in  a  hackneyed  way 
after  all.  Even  in  the  Latin  hymns,  the  greatest 
achievement  of  the  language  in  those  times,  there  is 
an  uncertainty  and  intermittent  character  about  their 
production,  unlike  the  energy  with  which  new  types 
of  poetry  are  taken  up,  and  exhausted,  where  the 
conditions  are  more  favourable.  There  was  no 
"town,"  in  the  pleasant  literary  sense  of  the  word, 
to  make  an  audience  for  literary  adventurers,  to  give 
them  the  illusion  of  fame  which  counts  for  so  much 
towards  the  reality  of  literary  success  Even  where 
there  was  something  like  a  court  and  an  Augustan 
patronage,  under  Charles  the  Great,  it  brought  out 
nothing  new — only  repetitions  of  the  sort  of  thing 
that  had  been  done  better  two  hundred  years  before 
by  Venantius  Fortunatus.     Latin,  it  is  true,  is  capable 


22  EUROPEAN   LITEKATUKE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

of  life;  but  its  life  comes  from  the  individual  tem- 
perament of  the  man  using  it,  and  not  from  any  such 
tide  of  inspiration  as  carried  the  Elizabethans  even 
beyond  their  natural  powers.  The  Latin  author,  if  he 
is  a  strong  man  like  Bede,  or  a  lover  of  adventure 
like  Paul  Warnefrid,  or  a  lively  person  like  Liutprand 
of  Cremona,  will  make  the  language  do  what  he  pleases, 
and  will  not  fail  to  express  his  own  character  in  so 
doing.  But  he  cannot  have,  in  the  Dark  Ages  at  any 
rate,  the  lift  and  impetus  of  contemporary  ambitions 
all  moving  the  same  way,  with  a  vague  certainty  that 
something  new  will  come  of  it  somehow.  The  Latin 
author  has  no  contemporaries.  He  is  a  fellow-worker 
along  with  Cicero  or  St  Augustine,  and  ought  to  be 
satisfied  with  that. 

There  are  some  general  subjects,  in  which  the  liter- 
ature of  these  ages  can  be  grouped,  better  perhaps 
than  under  distinctions  of  time,  The  characteristic 
teaching  of  the  Middle  Ages  is  much  the  same  in 
Cassiodorus,  in  Isidore,  in  Alcuin  and  Hrabanus 
Maurus.  The  Liberal  Arts,  or  perhaps  even  better, 
the  whole  of  didactic  literature,  may  be  taken  as  one 
department  of  the  history.  Among  the  barbarous 
nations  and  their  poetry  and  stories,  apart  from  those 
vernacular  books  where  the  common  educational  work 
was  carried  on,  there  are  certain  chief  interests  easily 
discernible — that  of  Mythology  and  that  of  the  Heroic 
Poem — according  as  the  nations  are  affected  by  the 
marvels  of  their  old  traditions,  or  by  the  dramatic 
attraction   of   more   recent   great  exploits.      In    con- 


INTRODUCTION.  23 

nection  with  these  latter  it  will  be  found  that  there 
are  many  ideas  and  motives  not  restricted  to  the 
barbarian  lands — Greek  mythology,  for  example, 
finding  its  way  in  among  Irish  and  Anglo-Saxons. 
The  following  chapter  takes  up  these  generalities; 
and  first  of  the  Liberal  Arts. 


24 


CHAPTEE    11. 

THE   ELEMENTS. 


THE    LIBERAL    ARTS — HISTORY — MYTHOLOGY    AND    LEGEND— THE 
HEROIC   POEM— COMMONPLACES   AND   COMMON   FORMS. 


I. 

The  darkest  time  in  tlie  Dark  Ages  was  from  the 
end  of  the  si.xth  century  to  the  revival  of   learning 
The  Liberal    Under  Charles   the  Great.     Bad  grammar 
Arts.  ^g^g    openly     circulated,     and     sometimes 

commended.  St  Gregory  the  Great  quoted  the  Bible 
in  depreciation  of  the  Humanities,  "  Quoniam  non 
cognovi  litteraturam  introibo  in  potentias  Domini" 
(Ps.  Ixx.  15,  16).  The  study  of  heathen  authors 
was  discouraf^ed  more  and  more.  "  Will  the  Latin 
grammar  save  an  immortal  soul?"  "  Wliat  profit 
is  there  in  the  record  of  pagan  gods  or  pagan  sage?, 
the  labours  of   Hercules  or   of   Socrates  ? "  ^      Books 

^  "  Quid  posteritas  emolumenti  tulit  legeuJo  Hectorem  pugnantem 
aut  Socratem  philosophantem  ? "  This  is  a  quotation  from  Sulpicius 
Severus  (a.d.  400),  but  the  same  sort  of  argument  is  used  in  the  time 
of  Gregory  the  Great,  and  later. 


THE   ELEMENTS.  25 

came  to  be  scarce ;  the  industry  of  copying  was  not 
applied  to  the  poets  or  orators  of  the  ancient  world, 
except  a  very  few.  But  the  decline  of  education 
was  not  universal.  I  If  studies  failed  in  Gaul  or  Italy, 
they  flourished  in  Ireland,  and  later  in  Britain, 
and  returned  later  from  these  outer  borders  to  the 
old  central  lands  of  the  Empire.  Further,  in  spite 
of  depression  and  discouragement,  there  was  a  con- 
tinuity of  learning  even  in  the  darkest  ages  and 
countries.  Certain  school-books  hold  their  ground 
with  little  fluctuation  of  popularity,  keeping  an 
honourable  position  as  representatives  of  classical  cul- 
ture. Martianus  Capella  On  the  Nuptials  of  Mercury 
and  Philology;  Fulgentius,  Mythologiarum  Libri  iii. ; 
Orosius,  Historiaruni  adversum  Paganos  Libri  vii.  ; 
Boethius  De  Consolatione  Philosophic^ ;  Cassiodorus, 
Institutiones ;  and  later  Isidorus  of  Seville,  with  a 
number  of  otlier  authors,  are  found  in  the  ages  of 
distress  and  anarchy  more  or  less  calmly  giving  their 
lectures  and  preserving  the  standards  of  a  liberal 
education.  Much  of  this  work  was  humble  enough, 
but  it  was  of  great  importance  for  the  times  that 
came  after.  For  these  later  times  it  did  not  matter 
that  many  great  autliors  had  been  unread  and  un- 
valued by  the  contemporaries  of  Gregory  of  Tours 
and  Gregory  the  Great ;  but  if  Martianus  Capella 
had  been  forgotten,  with  the  school- traditions  ex- 
emplified in  his  book,  there  would  have  been  no 
chance  of  a  revival  of  learning.  As  it  was,  the  ele- 
mentary and  often  pedantic  matter  of  the  favourite 
school-books    was    enough    to    foster    the    taste    for 


26  EUIIOPEAN   LITERATURE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

literature  ;  it  had  the  seeds  of  literature  in  it.  The 
darkest  ages,  with  all  their  negligence,  kept  alive 
the  life  of  the  ancient  world.  What  is  more,  their 
elementary  text-books  gave  a  character  to  the  litera- 
ture of  Europe  that  it  never  lost.  Their  work  was 
poor  and  low  compared  with  what  followed  it,  but  it 
was  never  undone.  They  preserve  out  of  classical 
times  the  things  that  were  best  available  for  the 
largest  number  of  scholars,  for  the  multitude  of 
preachers.  The  learning  is  popular,  not  difficult  or 
recondite,  except  perhaps  in  such  displays  as  the 
ornamental  rhetoric  of  Martianus  Capella.  Generally 
the  text-books  of  the  Dark  Ages  make  things  easy, 
and  simplify  the  results  of  ancient  learning  for  simple 
audiences.  There  were  many  temptations  to  be  over- 
subtle,  whether  in  orthodoxy  or  heresy,  and  some 
praise  must  be  allowed  to  the  educational  writers  who 
were  content  to  explain  the  elements. 

The  paradox  of  the  Dark  Ages  is  that  this  period, 
which  at  first  seems  to  be  so  distinctly  marked  as 
a  gap  and  interval  between  the  ancient  and  modern 
worlds,  is  in  its  educational  work  and  general  cul- 
ture both  ancient  and  modern.  Most  of  the  intel- 
lectual things  on  which  it  set  most  store  are  derived, 
on  the  one  hand,  from  ancient  Greece,  and  on  the 
other  are  found  surviving  as  respectable  common- 
places, scarcely  damaged,  in  the  Augustan  Ages  of 
Louis  XIV.  and  Queen  Anne. 

Great  part  of  the  educational  furniture  of  the 
Middle  Ages,  the  favourite  views,  opinions,  and  classi- 
fications, may  be  found  already  in   the  RepiiUic  of 


THE   ELEMENTS. 


27 


Plato.      The  four   Cardiual  Virtues  of   popular  doc- 
trine in  the  Middle  Ages,  familiar  in  preaching  and 
allegory,  are  according  to   the  division  and  arrange- 
ment adopted   by   Plato.     The  persons  of   Prudence, 
Fortitude,  Temperance,  and  Justice^  represent  a  very 
old   tradition.      It  might   be    fanciful   to   derive   the 
three  Estates— ora^ores,  bellatores,  lahoratores — from  the 
EepiiUic,  though  nowhere  in  history  are  the  functions 
of  the  three  Platonic  orders  of  the  Sages,  the  Warriors, 
and  the  Commons  more  clearly  understood  than  in 
the  mediaeval  theory  of  the  Estates  as  it  is  expounded, 
for  example,  in  the  book  of  Fiers  Flowman.     There 
is,  however,  no  doubt  about  the  origin  of  the  mediaeval 
classification  of  the   Liberal   Arts.     The  Quadrivium 
is  drawn  out  in  the  BepuUic  in  the  description  of 
the  studies  of  Arithmetic,  Geometry,  Astronomy,  and 
Music,  though   Plato   does   not   allow   the  mediaeval 
classification  of  Dialectic  as  a  Trivial  Art  along  with 
Grammar  and  PJietoric.     Furthermore,  the  vision  of 
Er  the  Pamphylian  is  ancestor,  through  Cicero's  Dream 
of  Scipio,  to  the  mediaeval  records  of  Hell,  Purgatory, 
and  Paradise ;  the  mediaeval  reverence  for  the  heavenly 
spheres  and  their  intelligences  and  their  song  is  an- 
ticipated in  the  same  passage,  as  again  in  the  Somnium 
Scipionis. 

It  is  in  allegory  that  mediaeval  literature  sometimes 

appears  to  be  most  distinguished  and  to 

Allegory.      ^.^.^^  ^^^^  ^^^^  ^j^^  ^j^^^,  humanities  of 

classical  art.     It  is  not  wonderful  that  many  English 

1  See,  e.^.,  the  English  thirteenth- century  allegory  of  Saivles  Warde, 
translated  from  a  Latin  original  of  the  school  of  St  Victor. 


28  EUROPEAN   LITERATURE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

students  of  liistory  find  their  notion  of  the  licnaissance 
summed  up  conveniently  and  pictorial ly  in  a  contrast 
between  tlie  drowsy  allegorical  Eose-garden  of  Chaucer's 
youthful  worship  and  the  wakefulness  of  his  Canter- 
bury prologue.  There,  in  the  Romaunt  of  the  Rose, 
are  the  Middle  Ages  and  their  fantasies  and  dreams ; 
here,  in  the  Kentish  April,  is  daylight,  clearness,  the 
old  humanities  restored  without  superstition.  So 
also  the  beginning  of  the  Reformation  is  often  illus- 
trated, as  it  was  by  the  Reformers  themselves,  with 
a  contrast  between  the  absurd  allegorical  commentaries 
of  the  old  school  and  the  rational  single-minded  inter- 
pretation of  the  text.  But  while  all  this  may  be 
convenient  and  satisfactory,  and  while  it  may  be 
admitted  that  the  allegorical  methods  are  in  a  special 
sense  the  property  of  the  Middle  Ages,  there  is  also 
something  else  to  be  said  before  the  Gotliic  period 
is  closed,  and  the  allegorical  spirit  dismissed  to  its 
shadowy  dwelling-place.  Mediaeval  allegory  is  derived 
from  a  very  luxuriant  stock  in  classical  literature. 
As  a  mode  of  imagination,  making  pictures  and  stories, 
it  is  almost  wholly  drawn  from  classical  precedents 
as  old  as  Homer.  Rumour  painted  full  of  tongues,  in 
the  JEiieid,  is  responsible  for  many  things  in  mediaeval 
literature — a  figure  whose  portentous  and  prodigious 
attributes  miglit  have  strained  the  most  courageous 
"  Gothic  "  artist  to  depict.  As  a  mode  of  interpreta- 
tion, to  get  hidden  values  out  of  documents  that 
mean  sometliing  different  on  the  face  of  them,  Alle- 
gory is  equally  the  product  of  classical  times.  The 
mediieval  expositors  applied  it  largely  and  freely  to 


THE  ELEMENTS.  29 

new  subjects,  but  they  discovered  no  new  principle 
that  had  not  been  known  to  old  interpreters  of  Homer. 
Plato  in  his  treatment  of  Homer,  as  in  his  allet^orical 
fables,  shows  himself  familiar  with  the  "Gothic" 
commonplaces,  and  he  is  surpassed  by  his  medifeval 
followers  only  in  the  extent  and  variety  of  their 
enterprise,  and  not  by  any  fresh  discovery  of  methods. 
Nor  is  it  the  case,  at  the  end  of  the  Middle  Ages, 
that  the  allegorical  devices  are  blown  at  once  con- 
temptuously to  their  limbo  with  the  other  trumpery. 
Tindal  and  Eabelais  might  join  in  their  scorn  of 
Friar  Lubin  and  his  receipts  for  finding  any  mean- 
ing in  any  text,  but  the  allegorical  method  survives 
their  satirical  protests.  The  "imitation  of  Nature," 
though  generally  recommended  by  the  contempor- 
aries of  Cervantes,  Shakespeare,  and  Moliere  when 
they  discussed  the  principles  of  art,  was  by  no  means 
generally  regarded  as  disqualifying  the  old  and 
honoured  methods  of  allegory.  The  historians  of 
the  Eenaissance  may  contrast  the  liveliness  and 
truth  of  the  new  order  with  the  tedious  conventions 
of  the  Middle  Ages;  may  find  in  art  and  literature 
an  assertion  of  Keason  and  Nature  against  "Gothic" 
sophistication  and  superstition ;  a  preference  of 
artistic  beauty  above  the  edifying  moral  lesson ;  a 
lively  dramatic  study  of  humours  and  motives  in 
place  of  the  abstract  sentiment  of  the  Eomaunt  of  the 
Rose.  But  it  will  not  be  found  that  this  chanste  of 
platform  is  generally  acknowledged  by  the  writers 
themselves  or  by  their  attendant  critics.  On  the 
contrary,  from  Petrarch  and  Boccaccio  down  to  Pope 


30  EUROPEAN   LITERATURE — THE   DARK    AGES. 

there  is  a  general  submission  to  the  rule  of  Allegory. 
"  Reason "  and  "  Nature "  by  common  consent  are 
held  to  include  the  allegorical  value  of  the  fable, 
whatever  the  fable  may  be,  whether  the  plot  of  an 
epic  or  an  eclogue.  In  spite  of  the  mockery  of 
Rabelais  and  the  Ohscuroriim  Virorum  —  "hsec  est 
via  qua  debemus  studere  in  Poetria" — tliere  is  no 
commonplace  more  general  or  more  tyrannical  in  the 
sixteenth  and  seventeenth  centuries  than  the  alle- 
gorical principle.  All  the  most  respectable  critics 
acknowledge  it;  it  is  laboured  by  Tasso  in  his  care 
for  the  reputation  of  his  Jerusalem ;  it  is  admitted 
by  Pope  in  the  preface  to  the  Iliad, 

Nothing  is  easier  than  to  make  the  learning  and 
thought  of  the  Middle  Ages  look  ridiculous  by  isolated 
quotation  of  some  of  the  common  absurdities,  and 
the  allegorical  method  more  than  anything  else 
gives  scope  for  this  sort  of  treatment.  Fulgentius, 
the  Moralia  of  St  Gregory,  the  old  French  version 
ot  Metamorplioseos  with  the  moral  exposition — Ovide 
7noralis4,  —  any  of  these  will  at  once  provide  any 
number  of  examples,  "good  cheap,"  to  show  the 
absurdity  of  mediaeval  reasoning.  Virgil  and  Ovid 
are  reckoned  along  with  the  Scriptures,  and  Theo- 
dulfus,  tlie  poet  of  the  Court  of  Charlemagne,  speaks 
for  the  whole  world  when  he  addresses  them  as 
teachers : — 

"Te  modo  Virgiliiim,  te  niodo  Naso  loqnax  : 
In  quorum  dictis  quanquam  sint  frivola  multa, 
Plurima  sub  falso  tegmine  vera  latent." 

But  if  it   be   true   that   similar   methods   are   found 


THE   ELEMENTS.  31 

luxuriantly  flourishing  in  ancient  Greece  (as  may 
be  seen  demonstrated  in  Dr  Hatch's  Hibhert  Lectures 
for  example),  then  they  cannot  be  made  distinctively 
a  part  of  the  Middle  Ages.  Still  less  when  the 
inaugurators  of  the  new  world  of  Humanism  are 
found  in  possession  of  the  same  antique  devices. 
Petrarch  interprets  the  Mneid  in  the  manner  of 
Fulgentius.  The  winds  of  the  First  Book  are  the 
Passions,  jEoIus  is  Eeason  who  controls  them,  Venus 
is  Pleasure,  the  true  subject  of  the  poem  is  the 
Perfect  Man.  If  it  be  said  that  allowance  is  to  be 
made  for  Petrarch  because  he  was  still  on  the  fringe 
of  the  Gothic  darkness,  and  inevitably  bound  to  comply 
unconsciously  and  against  his  better  judgment  with 
some  of  the  old  fashions  in  which  he  had  been 
educated,  there  are  still  other,  much  later,  witnesses 
for  the  defence,  who  may  show  that  two  or  three 
centuries  after  Petrarch  these  commonplaces  were 
still  as  vigorous  as  in  the  time  of  the  moralisation 
of  Ovid.  Sir  John  Harington's  treatment  of  the 
Orlando  Furioso  is  in  no  way  out  of  keeping  with 
the  method  of  St  Gregory  on  Job. 

Chapelain  in  the  Preface  to  his  Heroic  Poem,  Za 
Pucelle  ou  la  France  ddivr^c  (1656),  writes  in  the  same 
manner  as  Petrarch  of  the  allegorical  sense : — 

"  France  represents  the  soul  of  Man  at  war  with 
itself,  and  labouring  under  the  most  violent  Emotions : 
King  Charles,  the  Will,  mistress  absolute,  tending 
to  the  Good  of  its  own  nature,  but  easily  turned  to 
Evil:  the  English  and  the  Burgundian,  the  divers 
transports  of  irascible  Appetite,  conflicting  with  the 


32  EUROPEAN    LITERATURE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

just  empire  of  the  Will:  Amaury  and  Agnes  the 
dift'erent  movements  of  concupiscence,  which  corrupt 
the  innocence  of  the  Will  by  their  inducements  and 
their  charms,"  &c. 

So  it  may  be  assumed  as  proven  that  at  any  rate 
in  some  common  matters  and  manners  of  education 
the  Dark  Ages  were  not  remarkably  inferior  to  these 
more  brilliant  periods;  not  wholly  distinct,  in  their 
educational  tastes,  from  the  age  of  Plato  or  the  age 
of  Bacon.  The  Dark  Ages  did  not  invent  their 
absurdities.  The  elementary  classical  commonplaces, 
the  popular  methods  of  explanation,  are  preserved 
and  continued  during  the  Dark  Ages.  If  there  is 
anything  ludicrous  in  them,  it  belongs  almost  as 
much  to  the  days  of  Queen  Elizabeth  or  Louis  XIV. 
as  to  the  early  mediaeval  centuries. 

Perliaps  the  most  singular  thing  in  all  this  part 
of  the  subject  is  the  predominance  of  Ehetoric  in 
education,  or,  to  speak  more  exactly,  of 
Grammar  and  itlietoric,  in  the  senses  proper 
to  these  two  parts  of  the  old  Trivium.  The  third  art, 
Dialectic,  was  generally  less  important  in  the  scheme 
of  studies. 

One  is  prepared  for  barbarism  in  the  Middle  Ages, 
for  the  decline  of  Latin,  the  loss  of  Greek,  for  a 
general  confusion  of  tenses  and  cases ;  we  know  what 
to  expect,  or  rather  what  not  to  expect,  from  Fniuks 
or  Saxons  imitating  Cicero  or  Virgil.  But  on  the 
other  hand  it  is  difficult  to  appreciate  rightly  the 
extraordinary  care  and  affection  bestowed  on  the 
preparation  for  literature;  Grammar  being  the  proper 


THE   ELEMENTS,  33 

comprehensive  name  for  that  study,  with  Rhetoric 
to  continue  it.  The  classical  tradition  of  the  rudiments 
of  polite  learning  was  embodied  in  Martianus  Capella, 
and  in  those  works  of  Cassiodorus  and  Isidorus  which 
were  devoted  to  this  part  of  their  Encyclopedia.  It 
took  possession  of  Ireland ;  it  came  back  from  Ireland 
to  Britain  and  Germany.  It  might  languish  in  some 
places  and  times,  but  it  was  never  quenched.  At 
Clonmacnoise  or  in  the  palace  of  Charlemagne,  at 
York  or  St  Gall  or  Fulda,  the  old  liberal  arts  were 
cultivated  and  kept  alive.  Instruction  in  grammar 
was  to  be  obtained  from  many  masters,  with  phonetics 
even  as  a  basis,  for  Martianus  Capella  attends  to 
ihis,  like  the  tutor  of  M.  Jourdain — ''  B  labris  per 
spiritus  impetum  reclusis  edicimus,"  and  so  forth. 
The  figures  of  speech  were  generally  a  favourite 
subject,  as  they  were  in  Ehzabethan  days  and  after- 
wards, when  they  helped  to  form  the  Complete 
Gentleman.  The  Venerable  Bede's  early  work  in 
this  field  is  carried  on  by  Puttenham  in  The  Art  of 
Poetry  and  by  Eichard  Blome  in  The  Gentleman's 
Recreation  (1686),  which  begins  with  Grammar,  Poetry, 
and  Rhetorick,  and  goes  on  to  everything  else,  through 
Chronology,  Fortification,  Opticks,  and  other  things, 
down  to  Cock-Fighting. 

Bede's  handbook  of  Prosody  represents  another 
much  cultivated  department  of  literature :  the  eccen- 
tricities of  mediaeval  Latin  verse  are  not  to  be  excused 
by  the  want  of  proper  instruction  in  the  rules.  The 
rules  were  well  known  and  frequently  explained, 
sometimes  perhaps,  as  was  also  the  case  in  the  teach- 

C 


34  EUTiOPEAN   LITEI^ATUEE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

ing  of  Figures,  with  a  rather  inordinate  relish  for 
the  technical  terms :  thus  Aldhelm,  in  quoting  a 
verse,  must  stop  to  remark  "  brachycatalectic,"  and 
plays  the  terms  ^;^?i^A6mM?zcWs  and  Jiephthemimeris 
apparently  for  their  pure  ornamental  value  as  "  beauti- 
ful words."  One  most  interesting  effect  of  the  rhet- 
orical studies  of  the  Dark  Ages  was  the  attention 
paid  to  literary  decoration  of  all  kinds  in  original 
composition,  frequently  with  great  profusion  of  all 
the  available  resources  in  different  iullammatory  ways, 
but  not  always  without  sobriety.  The  extravagances 
of  style  in  the  Dark  Ages  might  in  most  cases  refer 
to  some  ancient  if  not  reputable  author  for  their 
precedents.  Their  florid  exercises  are  derived  from 
models  of  the  classical  period ;  ultimately,  as  has 
been  shown  with  great  learning  in  a  recent  German 
treatise,^  from  Gorgias  himself.  Gorgias  is  responsible 
for  a  good  deal  of  Aldhelm,  as  well  as  for  Euphues : 
the  old  joke  of  Plato's  Symposium,  "  turned  to  stone  by 
the  head  of  Gorgias,"  might  be  taken  all  but  literally 
of  the  whole  mass  of  rhetorical  decoration  in  the 
Middle  Ages.  Chiefly  the  mediaeval  taste  in  Latin 
prose  was  derived  from  Apuleius  and  his  school, 
Martianus  Capella  having  probably  more  effect  in 
this  way  than  any  other  writer.  The  Marriage  oj 
Mercury  and  Philology  was  a  book  that  no  library 
could  be  without,  and  it  is  not  wonderful  that  the 
barbarians  were  attracted  by  the  exorbitant  riches  of 
its   language,  nor  that  they  should  have  gone  much 

^  Noiden,  Die  antike  Kunstprosa  vorii  vi,  Jahrhundert  v.  Chr.  bis 
in  die  Zeit  der  Renaissance,  1898. 


THE   ELEMENTS.  35 

further  than  their  masters  in  the  use  of  emphasis 
and  gaudy  words.  They  tried  eveiy thing.  They 
"did  somewhat  affect  the  letter,  for  it  argueth 
facility,"  and  the  alliterative  amusements  of  Eliza- 
bethan Euphuism,  the  alliterative  passages  that  so 
charmed  Don  Quixote  in  his  favourite  authors,  are 
of  the  same  school  as  Aldhelm.  The  extraordinary 
foreign  vocabulary  used  in  a  certain  order  of  mediaeval 
Latin  prose  and  verse,  in  some  of  the  old  English 
charters,  in  Abbo's  poem  on  the  siege  of  Paris,  was 
founded  long  ago  in  the  experiments  of  Apuleius. 
There  was  a  continuous  process  of  development. 
The  whole  efflorescence  of  language  in  the  Dark  Ages, 
even   the   ineffable  His^erica  Famina^   is   the    com- 

^  The  Hisperica  Famina  (ed.  Stowasser,  Vienna,  1887),  as  perhaps 
the  most  extreme  thing  in  mediaeval  Latin,  ought  to  be  described 
here,  if  description  were  possible.  A  short  quotation  will  probably 
suffice  to  show  the  nature  of  the  work:  "Novello  temporei  glob- 
aminis  cyclo  hispericum  arripere  tonui  sceptrum  ;  ob  hoc  rudem 
stemico  logum  ac  exiguus  serpit  per  ora  rivus.  Quod  si  amplo 
temporalis  9evi  studio  ausonica  me  alligasset  catena  sonoreus 
faminis  per  guttura  popularet  haustus  ac  immensus  urbaui  tenoris 
manasset  faucibus  tollus,"  &c.  It  appears  to  be  a  student's  exercise. 
There  are  extant  pieces  of  three  different  versions  where  the  same 
themes  are  treated  apparently  under  the  same  rhetorical  rules. 
Thus  one  asks,  "  Non  ausonica  me  subligat  catena  ? "  and  another 
affirms,  "  Nam  strictus  romani  tenoris  me  septricat  nexus,"  both 
in  this  strange  way  boasting  that  they  have  the  Latin  of  Italy, 
which  is  what  is  meant  by  Hesperic  and  Ausonian.  The  several 
subjects  treated  are  first  the  day  of  a  student  {lex  diei),  and  then  a 
number  of  common  themes — Sea,  fire,  earth,  xoind,  clothes,  tavern, 
table,  &c.  The  rules  are,  first,  always  to  put  a  verb  between 
adjective  and  noun  ;  and  secondly,  to  find  for  every  simple  idea  a 
word  from  the  "  Hisperic  "  vocabulary,  which  is  that  of  Apuleius, 
Florus,  and  Martianus  Capella,  exaggerated  out  of  all  measure.  Dr 
Zimmer  thinks  that  these  essays  possibly  come  from  the  school  at 


36  EUROPKAN   LITERATUHE— THE   DARK    AGES. 

pletion  of  what  had  begun  in  the  first  conscious  efforts 
of  Greek  prose. 

It  is  not  wonderful  that  the  vernacular  languages, 
when  they  began  to  be  used  for  literature,  should 
have  copied  in  their  own  way  the  prestige  of  the 
Latin  eloquence,  especially  when,  like  the  Teutonic 
and  the  Celtic  languages,  they  were  subject  in  their 
older  native  verse  to  the  charm  of  alliteration.  The 
poetical  prose  of  ^Elfric,  which  is  English  in  its  rhythm 
and  founded  upon  the  model  of  Teutonic  verse,  is  also 
greatly  under  the  influence  of  the  ornamented  and 
rhythmical  Latin  prose :  without  that  example  it 
might  not  have  occurred  to  an  Englishman  to  beautify 
his  sermons  in  that  particular  manner. 

The  over-ornamented  styles  are  of  course  far  from 
universally  prevalent  or  obligatory  in  the  Middle 
Ages.  Then,  as  at  other  times,  though  certain 
customs  of  expression  may  become  traditionary,  there 
are  indefinite  possibilities  of  variation,  and  style  re- 
mains the  character  of  the  man  himself >  where  a 
character  can  be  discerned. 

The  educational  work  of  the  sixth  or  the  ninth 
century  is  (with  notable  additions  and  improvements) 

Llantwitt  Major  in  Glamorgan,  where  Gildas  and  St  David  were 
educated.  The  manner  of  writing  was  certainly  in  favour  in  Britain, 
as  is  shown  by  the  Latin  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  charters,  and  to  a  less 
degree  by  that  of  Gildas  in  one  century  and  Asser  in  another.  The 
whole  subject  is  discussed  by  Dr  Zimmer  in  Gottingische  Nachrichten, 
1895,  and  in  Nennius  Vindicatus,  appendix.  See  also  the  Papers  of 
Henry  Bradshaw,  the  Crawford  Collection  of  Early  Charters,  ed. 
Napier  and  Stevenson,  and  Journal  of  Philology,  xxviii.  209,  an 
article  by  Mr  Robinson  Ellis.  A  new  edition  of  Hisperica  Fumina 
is  promised  by  Mr  Jenkinson  at  the  Cambridge  Press. 


THE   ELEMENTS.  37 

largely  the  same  as  that  of  the  thirteenth.  Nor  is  it 
left  in  the  later  period  entirely  to  bumble  men  of 
industry ;  it  is  pursued  with  the  diligence  of  a  con- 
scientious clerk  by  the  men  whose  original  genius 
and  poetic  inspiration  might  have  been  held  to  relieve 
them  from  duties  towards  philology  and  the  other 
sciences-  The  Dark  Ages  reveal  the  prosaic  ground 
of  medic^eval  romance.  The  foundations  are  laid  by 
Orosius,  Boethius,  and  Isidore,  and  not  only  that, 
but  the  builders  of  the  crypts  are  recognised  and 
honoured  by  the  masters  of  the  pinnacles ;  the  poets 
in  their  greatest  freedom  of  invention  are  loyal  to 
the  grammarians  and  moralists,  the  historians  and 
lexicographers,  upon  whose  work  they  build.  They 
are  also  ready  to  take  their  turn  at  mason  work  in 
the  lower  regions  of  study,  not  only  without  grumb- 
ling, but  apparently  with  zest.  The  classical  encyclo- 
pedias of  Boccaccio  {De  Genecdogia  Deoriom,  Be  Casibtis 
Viroriim  Ilhostriuvi,  and  the  rest),  the  moral  and 
scientific  essays  of  Chaucer,  are  conducted  with  as 
light  a  heart  as  any  of  their  poetical  vanities.  They 
are  composed  with  the  same  motives  and  in  the  same 
spirit  as  the  treatises  which  gave  instruction  to  the 
Dark  Ages,  and  those  treatises  must  be  understood 
if  these  later  authors  are  to  be  rightly  estimated 
The  honour  of  Boethius  and  the  other  doctors  is  that 
they  were  not  found  antiquated  at  the  lievival  of 
Learning. 


38  EUKOi'EAN    LITEKATUKE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

11. 

The  lustoiical  work  of  the  Dark  Ages  was  liindered  by 

the  difficulties  of  language,  and  scarcely  found  in  any 

writer  a  proper  and  convenient  style.     The 

History.  .  .  . 

classical  tradition,  while  it  kept  before  the 
minds  of  historians  a  lofty  pattern  of  eloquence,  also 
tended  to  restrict  their  liveliness  by  the  requirements 
of  good  grammar:  while  those  who,  like  Gregory  of 
Tours  and  others,  were  indifferent  to  grammar  had 
no  vernacular  idiom  to  fall  back  upon.  In  England 
and  in  the  English  Chronicle  a  valiant  attempt  was 
made  to  use  the  native  language  for  historical  prose : 
but,  noble  as  it  is  in  many  respects,  the  English 
Chronicle  wants  the  mognitude  and  fulness  required 
for  efficient  history.  One  great  difference  between 
the  earlier  and  the  later  Middle  Ages  is  that  the 
earlier  time  has  nothing  like  the  free  idiomatic 
narrative  of  Snorri  or  Sturla,  of  Villani  or  Froissarb. 
The  historical  genius  is  muffled  in  Latin  prose. 

Even  so,  however,  the  historical  genius  asserts 
itself.  History  more  than  anything  else  in  the  Latin 
literature  of  the  Dark  Asjes  reveals  the  character  of 
the  individual  writers :  more  distinctly  than  the 
literature  of  theology  or  philosophy,  more  than  the 
poetical  works  of  the  time.  In  history,  dealing  as 
it  largely  does  with  contemporary  subjects,  the  author 
is  left  to  express  his  own  opinion  about  his  matter 
and  to  clioose  his  own  form:  he  is  tested  in  a  different 
way  from  the  author  who  has  to  expound  more  ab- 
stract    themes.      The     horn  i  list,    the    moralist,    was 


THE   ELEMENTS.  39 

allowed  and  expected  to  repeat  what  the  elders  had 
said  before  him  :  the  master  of  the  liberal  arts  in- 
curred no  blame  for  drawing  upon_  Isidorus  or  any 
other  encyclopedia.  The  historians  also  availed  them- 
selves, wherever  they  could,  of  previous  histories,  but 
the  nature  of  their  subject  forced  them  to  be  original. 
The  Latin  chroniclers  of  the  Middle  Ages,  though 
their  language  interferes  with  them,  are  as  various 
in  character  as  the  authors  of  any  other  period :  the 
commonplaces  of  their  style,  the  conventions  of 
respectable  grammar,  the  tedious  inherited  phrases, 
are  not  able  to  smother  up  the  differences  of  vision 
and  sentiment.  It  is  possible  to  take  this  historical 
literature  and  make  it  a  store  of  specimens  to  illus- 
trate faults  of  composition  and  errors  of  judgment: 
it  is  more  cheerful  and  profitable  to  see  in  it  a 
diversity  of  talent  expressing  itself  vigorously  in 
spite  of  adverse  conditions.  There  are  two  opposite 
points  of  view,  and  both  are  justifiable.  Eegarded  in 
one  way,  the  historians  represent  the  Dark  Ages  and 
all  the  darkness  of  them ;  in  another  aspect  they 
come  out  distinct  from  one  another  as  original  minds. 
There  is  as  great  a  difference  between  Gregory  of 
Tours  and  Bede,  or  Paulus  Diaconus  and  Einhard,  as 
between  Froissart  and  Commines.  Their  qualities 
are  felt  to  be  mainly  independent  of  the  conditions 
of  their  time.  Paulus  Diaconus  was  a  born  story- 
teller, who  only  wanted  a  better  language  to  make 
him  one  of  the  masters  of  narrative  prose.  The 
versatile  humour  of  Liutprand  might  have  worn  in 
another  age  something  different  from  his  Greek-Latin- 


40  EUROPEAN   LITERATURE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

Lombard  motley,  but  as  he  is,  he  is  unmistakable  and 
distinct.  The  genius  of  Bede  is  perhaps  the  clearest 
demonstration  in  the  whole  world  of  the  independence 
of  genius :  the  sanity  and  dignity  of  liis  mind  are  his 
own,  and  transcend  the  limitations  of  his  time :  he 
has  the  historical  gift,  and  he  finds  its  proper  applica- 
tion. If  the  first  impression  of  early  mediseval  Latin 
history  is  one  of  monotony,  and  if  monotony  never 
wholly  disappears  from  the  Latin  page  and  its  con- 
ventional formulas,  nevertheless,  the  true,  the  ultimate 
judgment  in  respect  of  these  authors  will  see  them 
each  for  himself,  each  with  characteristics  of  his  own 
There  is  no  want  of  variety  among  them. 

In  history  there  was  no  commanding  authoritative 
model  to  interfere  with  the  freedom  of  individual 
taste.  It  is  true  that  Orosius  has  a  place  at  the 
beginning  of  media3val  history  to  some  extent  resemb- 
ling that  of  Boethius  in  philosophy :  his  short  history 
of  the  world  is  a  prologue  to  the  work  of  the  following 
centuries  which  is  not  allowed  to  fall  out  of  reputa- 
tion at  the  close  of  the  period.  But  while  the  two, 
Boethius  and  Orosius,  are  regarded  in  a  similar  way 
as  authorities  by  King  Alfred  and  by  Dante,  the 
value  of  the  historian  is  inferior  to  that  of  the  philoso- 
pher: Boethius  not  only  introduces  the  course  of 
mediaeval  s'  ?culation  but  transcends  it:  he  is  not 
refuted :  his  doctrine  is  as  fresh  in  the  fourteenth 
century  as  in  the  sixth,  a  perennial  source  of  moral 
wisdom.  Orosius  is  much  less  important.  Although 
his  exposition  of  the  meaning  of  history,  his  justi- 
fication of  the  ways  of  Providence,  is  held  in  respect, 


THE   ELEMENTS.  41 

he  does  noc,  like  Boethius,  command  the  whole  field 
of  operations.  His  religious  view  of  history  and  his 
pathetic  sermonisings  are  followed  in  spirit  and  style 
by  many  mediaeval  authors,  but  the  interest  of  history 
was  too  great  and  varied  to  be  ruled  by  the  formulas 
of  Orosius :  the  chroniclers  generally  find  their  own 
points  of  view  for  themselves,  and  these  in  very 
many  cases,  fortunately,  are  not  those  of  the  preacher. 
Orosius  could  not  teach  anything  to  writers  who,  like 
Einhard,  knew  the  character  and  business  of  a  great 
statesman,  or,  like  Paulus  Diaconus,  had  stories  to  tell. 

IIJ. 

Classical  literatuie  perished  from  a  number  of  con- 
tributory ailments,  but  of  these  none  was  more 
Mythology  dcsperatc  than  the  want  of  romance  in 
and  Legend,  ^j^^  Roman  Empire,  and  especially  in  the 
Latin  language.  It  may  have  been  the  original  prose 
of  the  city  of  Rome,  the  disastrous  influence  of  the 
abstract  gods,  male  and  female,  whom  St  Augustine 
describes  satirically — Volupia,  Cluacina,  Vaticanus, 
Murcia,  and  the  rest,  tic7'ba  deorum.  It  may  have 
been  the  long-engrained  habit  of  rhetoric,  an  absorp- 
tion in  the  formal  machinery  of  literature,  that 
blighted  the  fancy  of  the  poets,  and  tun' id  the  old 
mythology  into  a  mere  affair  of  diction.  It  is  true 
that  there  were  exceptions.  Apuleius,  with  all  his 
rhetorical  tastes,  was  at  home  in  a  fanciful  world 
utterly  remote  from  the  "  hypocritical  and  hackneyed 
course  of  literature"  as  practised  in  the  schools.     He 


42  EUKOPEAN   LlTEKATUllE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

/ 

leaves  modern  authors  of  Eomance  very  little  to  in- 
vent in  addition  to  his  discoveries.  He  gives  up  the 
accepted  Oljanpian  tradition,  the  deities  of  the  pro- 
fessional epic,  and  goes  to  look  for  new  fancies  .in 
local  superstitions,  in  old  wives'  tales,  in  a  strange 
country,  full  of  terror  and  laughter,  the  Thessaly  of 
the  Classical  Wal/purgisnacht. 

Lucian  also,  in  emancipation  from  the  traditional 
literary  forms,  allows  his  fancy  to  play  mischievously 
about  the  subjects  of  mythology,  and  converts  them 
to  new  uses;  he  extracts  a  kind  of  volatile  essence, 
a  new  wonder,  from  their  ashes.  The  incidents  of 
his  True  History  have  been  found  by  modern  readers 
to  contain  another  element  besides  the  burlesque — 
a  strain  of  romantic  freedom.  At  the  very  lowest 
estimate  of  his  work,  he  showed  that  for  modern 
literary  purposes  the  myth  is  what  the  author  makes 
it;  it  is  a  theme,  a  suggestion,  from  which  new  fancies 
may  rise.  But  Apuleius  and  Lucian  had  no  followers, 
and  the  promise  of  a  romantic  revival  died  away. 

"The  Gothic  mythology  of  fairies,"  as  Dr  Johnson 
calls  it,  was  no  less  the  property  of  Italy  than  of 
the  North.  In  any  mountain  village  the  poets  might 
have  found  the  great -grandmothers  of  those  story- 
tellers for  whom  Boccaccio  in  his  Genealogy  of  the 
Gods  offers  a  courteous  defence.  The  elves  and  fays 
of  Italy,  Lamice,  as  Boccaccio  calls  them,  might  have 
refreshed  the  poets.  But  the  old  wives  and  their  fairy 
tales  are  left  unnoticed,  except  by  Apuleius.  The 
poets  might  praise  the  country  life,  but  this  part 
of   it,  known  to   Shakespeare,    Herrick,   and  Milton, 


THE   ELEMENTS.  43 

was  hidden  from  their  view.  The  kind  Italian  genius, 
that  had  saved  so  many  Latin  poets  from  the  curse 
of  pedantry  and  dull  magnificence,  was  still  able  to 
do  something  for  Claudian,  as  his  Old  Man  of  Verona 
is  sufficient  to  show.  But  while  the  blessinsf  of  li^ht 
and  air  and  the  quiet  life  was  not  withheld,  there 
was  something  that  kept  the  Latin  language  almost 
wholly  ignorant  of  fairy  tales. 

One  glory  of  the  Dark  Ages  and  the  barbarian 
tongues  is  that  they  made  up  for  this,  with  results 
that  are  not  yet  exhausted ;  among  other  things  with 
rather  important  results  for  the  reading  of  Greek  and 
Latin  poetry.  It  is  impossible  to  say  how  much  the 
modern  poetical  interpretation  of  Homer  or  Virgil 
is  affected  by  "  the  Gothic  mythology,"  or  by  the  tone 
of  mediaeval  roniance.  Ever  since  the  modern  nations 
began  to  be  educated,  their  study  of  Greek  and  Latin 
has  been  influenced,  for  all  but  the  most  precise  and 
accurate,  by  the  associations  of  Northern  legend.  Not 
only  the  mediseval  readers  who  calmly  accepted  ^neas 
or  Ulysses  in  any  sore  of  byrnie  or  breeches  that 
happened  to  be  the  fashion  ot  their  own  day,  but 
even  more  scrupulous  and  scholarly  persons  find 
themselves  reading  a  "Gothic"  Homer,  whose  inci- 
dents are  sometimes  like  a  border  raid,  sometimes 
like  the  adventures  of  Tristram  or  Lancelot.  There 
is  seldom,  in  spite  of  archaeology,  any  thorough  reve- 
lation of  Greek  life  untouched,  in  the  reader's  mind, 
with  "Gothic"  colours.  He  makes  his  own  scenery 
from  what  he  knows  in  his  own  land : 

"And  Lochnagar  with  Ida  looks  o'er  Troy." 


44  EUKOPEAN    LITEEATURE — THE   DAKK   AGES. 

Nothing  in  medifeval  literature  is  more  important 
than  the  revival  of  imagination  through  the  influence 
of  barbaric  myths  and  legends ;  and  in  this  the 
Celtic  and  Germanic  tongues  had  a  chief  share  be- 
tween the  ninth  and  the  fourteenth  century,  to  take 
no  wider  limits  than  these.  But  while  the  genius 
of  each  race  may  claim  its  due  honour,  the  one  for 
Tristram,,  the  other  for  Sigfred,  they  have  also  a 
common  merit,  transcending  that  of  their  separate 
contributions  to  the  life  of  the  world.  They  brought 
literature  back  into  relation  with  something  which 
is  neither  German  nor  Celtic  in  arjy  special  sense ; 
the  common  heritage  of  fancy,  found,  as  the  mytholo- 
gists  have  proved,  all  over  the  world.  The  barbarian 
invasion  in  literature  is  in  its  own  way  a  renaissance 
— a  revival  of  old  common  tastes  in  story-telling,  a 
rediscovery  of  the  world  of  Homer,  or  indeed  of 
something  more  ancient  stilL 

The  new  sources  of  terror  and  v>'onder  revealed  in 
the  Celtic  and  German  legends  are  not  their  exclu- 
sive property.  Ulysses  had  sailed  to  the  West  before 
Maelduin  or  St  Brandan.  Those  who  would  give 
the  Celtic  genius  an  especial  right  to  this  kind  of 
adventure  seem  to  be  unjust  to  the  genius  of  Babylon, 
which  knew  of  a  hero  voyaging  to  find  his  friend 
among  the  dead  and  to  hear  his  story.  Before  the 
Hellride  of  Brynhild,  before  the  Death  of  Balder, 
before  the  chant  of  Hervor  at  her  father's  grave, 
the  same  motives  of  awe  had  been  known  to  the 
Babylonian  in  the  Descent  of  IslUar,  But  although 
the  mystery  of  the  twilight  regions  of  mythology  and 


THE   ELEMENTS.  45 

the  charm  of  strange  adventures  are  not  exclusively 
Celtic  or  Teutonic,  that  does  not  take  away  the  place 
of  Celtic  and  Teutonic  mythology  m  the  history  of 
the  Middle  Ages.  It  merely  affects  the  summing 
up  as  to  what  is  to  be  called  especially  Celtic  or 
Teutonic  in  the  qualities  of  mediaeval  literature. 
There  mav  be  such  national  or  tribal  elements  to 
be  discriminated;  certain  differential  qualities  in  the 
manner  in  which  the  commonplaces  of  myth  are  pre- 
sented in  Dutch  or  Welsh,  in  Norse  or  Gaelic. 

The  progress  of  poetical  mythology  is  on  the  whole 
a  simple  one.  It  is  the  victory  of  imagination  over 
religion  in  matters  where  both  are  concerned ;  the 
substitution  of  imaginative  theory  for  religious  belief. 
Imagination  and  the  pure  delight  in  stories  drive  out 
fear. 

This  process  was  carried  out  to  the  fullest  extent 
in  the  Teutonic  world,  partly  through  the  circum- 
stances of  Teutonic  history,  and  mainly  through  the 
genius  of  one  branch  of  the  race,  the  Scandinavian. 
In  the  Celtic  lands  the  clarifying  of  myth  was  in- 
terfered with,  because  the  Celtic  religion  was  not 
left  to  itself;  it  had  to  compete  at  a  disadvantage 
with  the  official  religions  of  the  Empire,  first  pagan, 
then  Christian.  The  Germans  were  under  the  same 
oppression,  and  in  the  same  way,  after  conversion, 
allowed  their  ancient  fancies  to  be  confused  and 
obliterated — all  but  the  more  Northern  tribes.  The 
families  that  were  last  to  come  under  Latin  influence 
retained  their  mythology  longest;  the  English  longer 
than  the  Goths  or  the  Lombards;  the  Danes  longer 


4  6  EUIlOrEAN    LITERATURE — THE    DARK   AGES. 

than  the  English  ;  Norway,  Iceland,  and  Sweden  longer 
than  Denmark.  Partly  through  the  flourishing  in 
Norw^ay  and  Iceland  of  an  order  of  poetry  that  re- 
quired a  conventional  sort  of  mythological  ornament, 
the  myths  were  preserved  in  memory,  even  while  the 
gods  were  rejected,  and  even  with  an  accession  of 
intellectual  freedom  on  account  of  the  religious  re- 
jection  of  the  gods.  The  chief  memorial  of  this 
remarkable  emancipation  of  literature  from  religious 
prejudices  is  the  Edcla  of  Snorri  Sturluson,  written 
about  1222,  in  prose,  with  verse  quotations  from  old 
heathen  poems. 

In  Ireland  and  Wales  the  old  mythology  was  pre- 
served in  stories  where  the  ancient  gods  retained 
their  marvellous  nature  to  a  large  extent,  though 
losing  largely  in  the  special  characteristics  of  divinity. 
The  gods  became  heroes.  For  imagination  and  for 
literature  the  change  did  not  matter  much.  Cuchulinn 
is  not  less  interesting  because  he  is  possibly  less  divine 
than  Hercules,  and  Odin  and  Thor  are  heroes,  with 
the  dignity  of  gods — a  kind  of  peerage  which  scarcely 
affects  their  value  in  a  story. 

Grimm  in  his  Teutonic  Mythology  has  tracked  the 
myths  in  their  disguises  through  the  poems,  chronicles, 
and  popular  stories  of  the  German  countries  not 
Scandinavian,  the  regions  of  Ger mania  which  had  lost 
their  gods  long  before  the  Icelandic  scholar  wrote 
his  account  of  them  in  the  thirteenth  century.  Celtic 
students  have  done  similar  work  in  the  other  province, 
with  this  great  disadvantage,  that  there  is  no  Celtic 
Edda^  no  clear  statement  of  the  old  mythology  by 


THE   ELEMENTS.  47 

one  who  had  command  of  pure  heatlien  sources.  The 
ironical  and  impartial  genius  of  Snorri  Sturluson  is 
something  exceptional  in  history ;  his  rationalist  clear- 
ness and  his  imaginative  sympathy  with  myths  are 
qualities  that  will  scarcely  be  found  repeated  in  that 
degree  in  any  age,  except  perhaps  in  some  that  have 
no  myths  of  their  own  to  boast  of. 

But  whether  in  the  Teutonic  countries,  which  in  one 
of  their  corners  preserved  a  record  of  old  mythology,  or 
in  the  Celtic,  which  allowed  mythology,  though  never 
forgotten,  to  fall  into  a  kind  of  neglect  and  to  lose  its 
original  meaning,  the  value  of  mythology  is  equally 
recognisable,  and  it  is  equally  clear  that  mythology  is 
nothing  more  nor  less  than  Romance. 

Everything  in  the  poets  that  is  most  enthralling 
through  the  mere  charm  of  wonder,  from  the  land  of 
the  Golden  Fleece  to  that  of  the  Holy  Grail,  is  more 
or  less  nearly  related  to  mythology. 

The  "  natural  magic  "  of  which  Mr  Arnold  spoke  in 
his  lectures  on  Celtic  literature,  he  connected  no  less 
truly  than  persuasively  with  Celtic  mythology.  The 
end  of  mythology  is  in  that  way ;  it  passes  into  poetry, 
and  the  barbarous  terror  of  a  world  not  realised  be- 
comes the  wonder  of  La  Belle  Dame  Sans  Mercy  or  of 
Hyferion. 

The  Northern  mythology  as  recorded  in  the  Edda 
cannot  be  taken  any  longer  as  it  used  to  be  by  enthu- 
siastic antiquaries  and  made  into  the  com- 

TU  Edda.  ,    .    ^ 

mon  original  property  of  all  the  Teutonic 
tribes.  The  tribes  had  stories  of  their  own  about  Woden 
and  Frea,  like  the  Lombard  one  preserved  by  Paulus 


48  EUROPEAN   LITERATURE— THE   DARK    AGES. 

Diaconus;  the  Norwegian  stories,  which  may  be  possibly 
better,  are  not  exactly  the  same.  Not  only  may  we  sup- 
pose that  the  Norwegians,  who  are  our  chief  authorities, 
had  their  own  selection  of  stories  about  the  gods,  not 
the  same  as  the  Gothic,  Vandal,  Saxon,  Lombard,  or  any 
other  group  of  stories;  but  the  Norwegians  had  time  to 
find  out  new  things  about  the  gods  in  the  additional 

^  centuries  of  tlieir  heathendom,  when  the  other  tribes 
had  gone  over  to  the  Christian  Church.  The  Edda  is 
not  a  document  for  the  whole  of  Germany,  except  in 
so  far  as  it  gives  in  the  finest  form  the  mythology 
of  the  purest  and  the  least  subdued  of  the  German 
races.  What  is  Scandinavian  is  also  Teutonic,  in  one 
sense,  but  it  is  a  very  special  and  peculiar  develop- 

U  ment  of  the  original  Teutonic  type.  Yet  the  myth- 
ology of  the  Edda,  refined  and  modern  as  it  is, 
contains  elements  that  are  older  than  Germany, 
monstrous  fragments  of  the  primeval  world,  as  Carlyle 
has  divined  and  explained  in  words  that  serve  for 
other  mythologies  as  well : — 

"  All  this  of  the  old  Norse  Belief  which  is  flung  out 
for  us  at  one  level  of  distance  in  the  Edda,  like  a 
picture  painted  on  the  same  canvas,  does  not  at  all 
stand  so  in  reality.  It  stands  rather  at  all  manner  of 
distances  and  depths,  of  successive  generations  since 
the  Belief  first  began.  All  Scandinavian  thinkers, 
since  the  first  of  them,  contributed  to  that  Scandi- 
navian system  of  thought ;  in  ever-new  elaboration 
and  addition,  it  is  the  combined  work  of  them  all." 
Perhaps  the  Northern  mythology  would  be  best 
surveyed   in    the    following    way.      First    come    the 


THE   ELEMENTS.  49 

stories  of  the  cosmogony — barbarous,  grotesque,  as 
Carlyle  has  described  them.  The  world  is  the  body  of 
a  giant.  His  skull  is  the  heaven,  his  flesh  the  earth, 
his  brains  are  the  clouds  that  move  across  the  sky, 
under  the  skull  of  Hymir ;  his  blood  made  the  sea  ; 
the  dwarfs  who  live  in  caves  were  made  out  of  the 
maggots  that  bred  in  him.  The  stars  came  other- 
wise ;  they  are  sparks  from  the  great  fiery  region  of 
Chaos.  There  is  something  national  and  Northern 
perhaps,  as  Carlyle  thought,  perliaps  even  more  of 
Snorri  himself,  in  the  humorous  way  this  story  is 
given  in  the  Eclda,  but  the  substance  of  it  comes  from 
a  time  long  before  there  was  any  Germania. 

Next  there  are  myths  of  the  nature  powers,  such  as 
one  finds  in  other  countries,  the  favourite  god  being 
Thunder,  that  is,  Thor,  about  whom  the  greatest 
number  of  the  most  entertaining  stories  are  told.  In 
these  one  can  trace  the  education  of  the  Northmen,  the 
growth  of  their  theory  of  life,  Thor  is  the  typical 
Northman  of  the  old  sort — bluff,  homely,  reckless,  and 
fearless — not  specially  intellectual,  sometimes  out- 
witted bv  the  cunnino;  of  his  adversaries,  but  "ood  at 
hard  work,  and  instinctively  (one  niay  say)  on  the  side 
of  Reason. 

Third,  there  are  the  myths  ot  Odin.  Woden  belongs 
to  all  the  Germans,  but  eminently  to  the  Northmen, 
and  to  them  especially  at  the  time  when  they  were 
beginning  to  grow  discontented  at  home  and  to  dream 
of  conquests  abroad.  Odin  is  the  chief  of  the  gods, 
but  he  does  not  sit  apart  on  an  Olympian  throne, 
watching  the  world  spin.     Odin  is  a  wanderer  on  the 

D 


^ 


50  EUIIOPEAN    LITERATURE — THE   DAUK   AGES. 

face  of  the  earth,  anxious,  a  seeker  for  wisdom,  a 
henefactor  of  mankind ;  Prometheus  in  the  place  of 
Zeus.  He  barters  one  of  his  eyes  for  a  drink  of  the 
well  of  wisdom;  or,  according  to  another  story,  ventures 
among  the  giants  and  steals  the  draught  of  wisdom 
and  poetry,  as  Prometheus  stole  the  fire  of  heaven.  He 
descends  into  the  abyss  to  find  out  the  hidden  things 
of  the  universe.  The  quickening  of  mankind  out  of 
brute  lumps  into  reasoning  creatures  is  ascribed  by  the 
Greeks  to  the  wise  Titan,  by  the  Northmen  to  Odin 
and  his  two  companions. 

Last  of  all  come  the  myths  of  the  decay  of  pagan- 
ism. It  is  these  that  have  most  impressed  the  imag- 
ination of  modern  students — the  myths  of  Valhalla 
and  of  the  Twilight  of  the  Gods.  They  are  not 
original  Teutonic  beliefs ;  they  grew  up  in  the  period 
of  migration  and  conquest,  when  the  Northmen  first 
became  acquainted  vaguely  with  the  ideas  of  Christ- 
ianity in  the  English,  French,  or  Scottish  countries 
where  they  had  found  a  settlement. 

Common  to  all  stages  of  this  mythology  and  to 
all  the  Germans  as  well,  was  the  conception  of  the 
human  world  as  an  enclosure  defended  against  Chaos. 
The  human  world  is  Midgarth ;  in  Anglo  -  Saxon 
middcuigeard,  the  "  merry  middle  -  earth "  of  later 
ballads.  The  Edda  explains  the  whole  system  clearly ; 
it  was  more  clearly  worked  out  in  the  North  than 
elsewhere.  In  the  full  Scandinavian  philosophy  the 
human  world  is  contrasted  with  Asgarth,  the  citadel 
of  the  Anses,  the  gods,  which  rises  in  the  centre  of 
the  circle  of  Midgarth ;  and  with  Utgarth,  the  outer 


THE   ELEMENTS.  51 

circle,  the  icy  barrier  of  the  world,  the  home  of  the 
Giants  (Jotimheim),  only  one  remove  from  Nillheim 
and  the  gulfs  of  Chaos. 

The  elements  are  the  same  as  in  Greece,  but  they 
are  differently  mixed,  and  the  import  is  not  the 
same.  The  Greeks,  like  the  Northmen,  thought  of 
the  world  as  encircled  by  the  Ocean  stream ;  they 
too,  as  one  sees  in  the  Odyssey,  believed  in  a,  strange 
and  desolate  country  out  on  the  verge;  the  Iliad 
has  knowledge  of  the  ends  of  the  earth  not  unlike 
that  of  the  Scandinavian  account — the  ed^e,  leadinf^^ 
down  to  the  depths  of  Tartarus,  a  joyless  country 
unblest  by  wind  or  sun,  the  abode  of  ancient  un- 
happy creatures,  lapetus  and  Cronus.^  But  what 
is  a  passing  thought  in  the  Greek  mind  becomes 
in  the  Northern  a  constant  and  inevitable  belief. 
Through  all  his  daily  life  the  Northman  hears 
the  boom  of  the  surges  of  Chaos  on  the  dykes  of 
the  world.  The  giants  are,  not  disposed  of,  as  in 
Greece,  by  a  decisive  conquest  early  in  history.  The 
Olympians  broke  the  backs  of  their  adversaries  in  a 
short  campaign ;  the  ^Esir,  the  Northern  gods,  are 
like  Northern  rovers  in  a  fortress  surrounded  by  a 
hostile  country.  It  is  part  of  the  life  of  the  gods 
to  keep  watch  against  their  enemies,  to  catch  them 
asleep  if  possible ;  to  add  to  their  tale  of  victories  in 
the  unending  feud.     Thor  does  most  of  this  work.     It 

^  ouS'  ei  «e  TO  j/e/ora  irdpad'  'iKTjai 
yalrjs  /cat  ttovtoio,  tV  'laTreros  re  KpSuos  re 
77,uerot  out'  uvyrjs  'T-mpiouos  'HeAioLo 
T^pTTovT   ovt'  avej-iuKXi,  fio.Qvs  Se  re  Tdprapos  dficpis. 

—21.,  viii.  478-481. 


52  EUROPEAN    LITERATURE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

is  told  of  him  repeatedly  in  the  stories  that  he  was 
away  from  As^jarth,  had  sjone  East  to  thrash 

Thor.  o  »  & 

the  trolls  {at  lerja  troll).  It  is  in  this  sort 
of  business  that  the  Thunder-god  acquires  his  charac- 
ter of  hero,  and  his  hold  upon  the  affections  of  the 
Northmen.  He  is  a  favourite  god,  a  patron,  a  "  friend  " 
(vinr),  as  the  old  Northern  phrase  went. 

One  of  the  best  of  the  stories  of  his  warfare  is 
the  defeat  of  the  giant  Hrungnir,  told  in  the  second 
part  of  the  JEdda  {Skdldska^parmdl,  c.  17)  : — 

One  day  when  Thor  had  gone  East  to  thrash  the 
trolls.  Odin  mounted  Sleipnir  and  rode  into  Jotun- 
heim  and  came  to  the  house  of  the  giant  Hrungnir. 
Hrungnir  asks,  "  Who  is  that  in  the  golden  helmet  who 
rides  over  wind  and  water  ?  he  has  a  wondrous  good 
horse."  Odin  said  he  would  wager  his  head  there 
was  not  a  horse  so  good  in  all  Jotunheim.  Hrungnir 
was  moved  by  this,  and  leapt  on  his  horse  and  rode 
after  Odin  as  hard  as  he  could.  Odin  kept  before 
him  all  the  way  to  Asgard,  but  Hrungnir  came  burst- 
ing in  through  the  gates — and  the  ^sir  had  to  make 
the  best  of  him  they  could.  They  brought  him  plenty 
to  drink,  and  the  giant  drank  freely.  When  he  was 
well  drunk;  there  was  no  want  of  big  words:  he 
said  he  would  take  up  Valhalla  and  carry  it  off  to 
Jotunheim,  and  throw  down  A^garth,  and  kill  the 
gods  and  carry  off  Ereyja  and  Sif, 

The  gods  were  very  angry  at  all  this.  Ereyja 
alone  dared  to  come  near  him  and  fill  his  horn :  he 
said  he  would  drink  up  all  the  ale  of  the  gods. 
'Jhe  gods  were  weary  of  his  boasting,  and  called  on 


THE   ELEMENTS.  53 

Thor.  At  that  instant  Thor  appeared  in  the  hall 
He  had  his  hammer  over  his  shoulder  and  was  very 
angry.  He  asked  who  had  allowed  rogues  of  giants 
to  come  and  sit  at  drink,  or  Freyja  to  pour  out 
drink  for  him  at  the  feast  of  the  gods?  Hrungnir 
scowled  at  Thor,  and  said  Odin  had  brought  him  in, 
and  was  surety  for  him.  "  You  shall  repent  this," 
says  Thor.  "  Little  honour  to  you,"  says  Hrungnir, 
"to  kill  an  unarmed  giant:  it  will  try  your  metal  to 
come  and  fight  in  single  combat.  It  was  a  foolish 
work,"  he  says,  "  when  I  left  my  shield  and  my  club 
at  home,  but  I  will  call  you  a  coward  if  you  slay 
me  now  when  I  am  without  my  weapons."  Thor 
accepted  the  challenge,  and  Hrungnir  went  home. 

When  he  got  to  Jotunheim  all  the  other  giants 
came  round  about  him  to  hear  how  he  had  fared, 
and  he  told  them  the  wliole  story. 

The  giants  took  it  sadly.  If  Thor  killed  Hrungnir 
their  champion,  they  knew  what  to  expect  from  him 
afterwards.  So  they  made  a  mud  giant.  He  was 
nine  miles  high  and  three  broad:  but  they  could  not 
get  a  heart  for  him  till  they  took  a  mare's  heart  and 
put  it  into  him :  it  was  not  steady  when  Thor  came. 
Hrungnir  had  a  heart  of  spiky  stone.  His  head  was 
stone  also ;  so  was  his  shield ;  his  weapon  was  a 
hone.  So  he  stood  waiting  for  Thor,  and  Mistcalf, 
the  mud  giant,  stood  beside  him ;  they  say  that  he 
bewrayed  himself  for  fear  when  Thor  came.  Thor 
came  with  his  henchman  Thialfi :  Thialfi  ran  on  in 
front  and  cried  out,  "Better  guard,  giant,  for  Thor 
has  seen  you,  and  is  coming  at  you  under  the  earth/' 


54  EUROPEAN    LITERA'lURE — THE   DA  UK   AGES. 

So  Hruiignir  put  down  his  shield  and  stood  on  it 
and  took  his  stone  dub  in  two  hands.  Then  he  saw 
lightnings  and  heard  thunder,  and  Thor's  hammer  came 
flying:  it  caught  the  hone  and  broke  it,  and  went 
into  Hrungnir's  stone  skull  and  cracked  it  into  little 
pieces.  The  hone  was  broken :  half  of  it  went  into 
Thor's  head.  The  mud  giant  fell  to  Thialfi,  and 
made  a  poor  end.  The  healing  of  Thor's  head  is 
another  story. 

Odin  has  a  different  method  and  a  different  signifi- 
cance. One  of  the  poems  in  the  Elder  Edda,  The  Lay 
of  Harlard,  has  for  its  subject  the  contention 
of  Thor  and  Odin,  of  Force  and  Wit  The 
spirit  of  Odin,  the  scholar-adventurer,  was  contrasted 
with  the  native  unsophisticated  strength  of  Thor.  So 
long  ago,  even  before  the  old  faith  was  discarded,  Nor- 
way had  begun  to  contribute  satirical  dialogue  to  this 
part  of  the  everlasting  comedy,  the  antithesis  of  old 
custom  and  new  reason,  in  which  the  latest  Nor- 
wegian authors  still  find  something  to  say.  And  yet 
earlier  and  older  than  The  Lay  of  Harhard  is  the 
solemn  deliverance  of  the  mind  of  Odin  in  The  High 
Ones  Lesson  (Hdvamdl):  "I  hung  on  the  gallows-tree 
nine  whole  nights,  wounded  with  the  spear,  offered 
to  Woden,  myself  to  myself ;  on  tlie  tree  whose  roots 
no  man  knoweth.  They  gave  me  no  loaf,  they  held 
no  horn  to  me.  I  peered  down,  I  caught  up  the 
mysteries  with  a  cry,  then  I  fell  back.  I  learned 
nine  songs  of  might  ...  I  got  the  draught  of  the 
precious  mead    .    .    .    then  I  became  fruitful  and  wise, 


THE   ELEMENTS.  55 

and  waxed  great  and  flourished ;  word  followed  fast 
on  word  with  me,  work  followed  fast  on  work 
with  me."  ^ 

The  agony  of  Odin  is  a  myth  of  a  different  sort 
from  the  downright  methods  of  Thor  with  the  giants, 
and  the  early  Northern  religious  poet  knew  this  and 
brought  it  out.  As  Prometheus  takes  on  an  ideal 
character,  with  a  tragic  depth  and  meaning  far 
beyond  the  original  old  conceptions  of  the  philan- 
thropic Titan,  so  Odin  with  the  Northmen  grows 
more  and  more  in  significance,  and  stands  for  all  the 
perplexities  and  questionings  of  the  human  race. 

The  myths  of  the  death  of  Balder  and  the  Doom  of 
the  Gods  have  been  explained  and  admired  too  often 
ro  need  much  comment.  Perhaps  one  reason 
why  modern  treatment  of  these  subjects  is 
so  often  found  unsatisfactory  is  that  the  original 
documents  have  left  nothing  for  modern  imagination 
to  do.  The  Volospd  and  Balder' s  Dream,  with  the  prose 
of  the  Eclda,  have  got  out  of  the  myths  their  whole 
imaginative  essence. 

The  tragedy  of  the  Doom  of  the  Powers,  the  end 
of  the  world,  seems  to  have  been  the  ruling  idea  of 
the  later  Northern  mythology,  or  at  any  rate  that 
which  impressed  itself  most  deeply  in  poetic  medita- 
tions on  such  themes.  Perhaps  the  Teutons  had 
always  a  suspicion  that  their  gods  were  mortal.  The 
story  of  the  death  of  Balder  is  probably  a  very  old 
one.  Originally  perhaps  a  nature-myth,  of  the  death 
of  summer,  or  of  the  day,  its  ideas  of  mortality  were 

^  Corpus  Poeticum  Boreale,  i.  24. 


56  KUKOrEAN    LITERATUUE — THE   DARK    AGES. 

retained  after  the  natural  origin  of  the  story  was 
forgotten  ;  it  became  the  symbolic  tragedy  of  all 
death,  the  triumph  of  Time.  The  idea  also  that  the 
whole  system  of  the  world — Heaven  and  Earth  and 
the  Gods — was  fated  to  disappear,  was  probably  a 
very  old  one.  Zeus  in  the  Prometheus  Bound  is  con- 
scious of  danger  ahead,  though  the  sympathies  of  the 
audience  are  not  attracted  to  him  in  the  same  way. 
Zeus  is  in  the  position  of  Odin,  trying  all  shifts  to 
get  at  the  mystery  of  his  fate,  as  Odin  goes  about 
asking  questions  of  Yaftlirudnir  and  others,  trying  to 
find  out  all  he  can  of  the  way  things  are  going  "  until 
the  wreck  of  the  gods ''"  {unz  rliifask  regin).  This  situa- 
tion, which  is  exceptional  in  Greek,  becomes  the  ruling 
motive  in  Scandinavian  legend.  The  realm  of  Chaos 
and  old  Night  is  to  rise  against  the  gods  and  over- 
come them ;  the  Wolf,  the  old  enemy,  is  unchained ; 
the  World-serpent  of  the  ocean  raises  its  head  against 
them.  Out  of  the  chaotic  fire  of  Muspellsheim  comes 
a  fiendish  army  led  by  a  king  with  a  flaming  sword. 
The  iEsir  stand  on  the  ramparts  of  Asgarth,  and  with 
them  the  heroes  who  have  fallen  in  battle  on  earth, 
and  have  been  chosen  by  Odin's  Valkyries  to  be  the 
fellows  of  the  gods  in  the  last  conflict.  Thor  slays 
the  ]\Iidgarth-worm,  but  its  venom  is  the  death  of 
him.  The  Wolf  attacks  Odin  ;  it  is  written :  "  Few 
men  can  see  further  than  the  day  when  Odin  shall 
meet  with  the  wolf." 

The  latest  prophets  of  the  old  faith  thought  they 
saw  something  further :  Balder  coming  again,  and  a 
new  Heaven  and  a  new  Earth.     But  perhaps  this  was 


THE  ELEMENTS.  67 

not  the  common  belief;  this  part  of  Northern  tradi- 
tion is  full  of  analogies  with  the  Christian  Apoca- 
lypse ;  it  belongs,  as  is  clearly  explained  by  the 
editors  of  Corims  Foeticum  Boreale,  to  the  Viking  age, 
when  the  Northmen  in  France,  Ireland,  everywhere, 
were  in  close  acquaintance  with  Christian  ideas  and 
with  repeated  pictures  of  Doomsday.  They  were  not 
a  dull  people ;  besides  their  economic  motives  for 
roving,  they  had  the  appetite  for  seeing  the  world 
and  learning  tiie  ways  of  foreigners  {at  Icanna  annarra 
manna  si^u) ;  they  could  not  fail  to  learn  much  of 
the  beliefs  that  provided  them  with  their  richest 
earnings,  in  churches  and  convents.  What  is  dis- 
tinctly  Northern  in  the  myth  of  the  Twilight  of  the 
Gods^  is  the  strength  of  ics  theory  of  life.  It  is  this 
intensity  of  courage  that  distinguishes  the  Northern 
mythology  (and  Icelandic  literature  generally)  from 
all  others.  The  last  word  of  the  Northmen  before 
their  entry  into  the  larger  world  of  Southern  culture, 
their  last  independent  guess  at  the  secret  of  the 
Universe,  is  given  in  the  Twilight  of  the  Gods.  As 
far  as  it  goes,  and  as  a  working  theory,  it  is  absolutely 
impregnable.  It  is  the  assertion  of  the  individual 
freedom  against  all  the  terrors  and  temptations  of  the 
world.  It  is  absolute  resistance,  perfect  because  with- 
out hope.  The  Northern  gods  have  an  exultant  ex- 
travagance in  their  warfare  wliich  makes  them  more 

^  The  term  "Twilight  of  the  Gods"  {ragnarokr),  used  regularly  by 
Snorri,  is  probably  to  be  taken,  as  Gudbrand  Vigfusson  explains,  for 
a  confusion  with  "  Doom  of  the  Gods  "  {ragnaroh)  which  occurs  re 
peatedly,   while    the   other   occurs   once   only,  in   the   mythological 
poems. 


58  EUKOPEAN    LITEUATUKE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

like  Titans  than  Olympians ;  only  they  are  on  the 
right  side.,  though  it  is  not  the  side  that  wins.  The 
winning  side  is  Chaos  and  Unreason ;  but  the  gods, 
who  are  defeated,  think  that  defeat  is  not  refutation. 
The  latest  mythology  of  the  North  is  an  allegory  of 
the  Teutonic,  self-will,  carried  to  its  noblest  terms, 
deified  bv  the  men  for  whom  all  relijSfion  was  coming 
to  be  meaningless  except  "trust  in  one's  own  might 
and  main"— the  creed  of  Kjartan  Olafsson^  and  Sig- 
niund  Brestisson  '^  before  they  accepted  Christianity. 

The  Northmen  in  the  Dark  Ages  had  already  dis- 
covered the  imaginative,  poetical,  romantic  value  of 
myth.  They  allowed  this  interest  more  and  more  to 
absorb  what  remained  of  a  practical  and  effective 
belief  in  the  gods,  The  gods  became  a  fable :  and 
in  this  way,  because  the  fable,  the  adventures  of  Thor 
and  Odin,  the  death  of  Balder,  the  fall  of  Asgarth, 
was  not  found  inconsistent  wiih  new  forms  of  re- 
ligion, the  mythology  of  the  North  was  preserved, 
when  the  mythology  of  England  and  Germany,  being 
without  a  poetic  mind  to  translate  it  into  romance, 
was  driven  to  its  refuges  and  disguises  in  common 
folk-lore. 

The  Celtic  mythology  was  not  so  fortunate  as  the 

Norse  ;  but  the  same  imaginative  temper  is  found  in 

Ireland  and    Irish  literature,  the  same  refusal  to  give  up 

waUs.  good  stories  on  account  of  religious  objec- 
tions to  them.  The  difference  between  Ireland  and  Ice- 
hind  is  that  the  original  heathen  traditions  had  become 
much  more  obscure  and  corrupt  in  Ireland  before  the 

^  Laxdcela  Saga.  ^  Fcereyinrja  Scuja, 


THE   ELEMENTS.  59 

stage  at  vvliich  the  imaginative  literary  artist  began  to 
work  on  them.  Or  perhaps  it  would  be  truer  to  say 
that  the  imaginative  reconstruction  of  mythology, 
turning  gods  into  heroes,  had  already  been  carried 
far  before  even  the  oldest  extant  versions  of  Cymric 
or  Gaelic  myth.  While  the  Northmen  remembered 
their  gods  clearly,  and  thought  of  them  as  gods  with 
a  liome  and  a  proper  life  of  their  own,  the  AVelsh  and 
Irish  more  and  more  forgot  their  divinity,  and  turned 
their  gods  into  princes  or  heroes  of  Ulster  and  Con- 
naught,  Gwynedd  and  Dyved. 

Like  Carlyle  with  the  Edda,  so  with  the  Celtic 
mythology  a  casual  observer  appears  to  have  summed 
up  the  case.  Matthew  Arnold's  remarks  in  his 
Lectures  on  Celtic  Literature  are  allowed  to  stand,  by 
the  Celtic  scholars  who  know  most  about  the  subject, 
as  a  true  and  satisfactory  judgment.  "  The  very  tirst 
thing  that  strikes  one  in  reading  the  Mahinogion  is 
how  evidently  the  mediaeval  story-teller  is  pillaging 
an  antiquity  of  which  he  does  not  fully  possess  the 
secret:  he  is  like  a  peasant  building  his  hut  on  the 
site  of  Halicarnassus  or  Ephesus ;  he  builds,  but 
what  he  builds  is  full  of  materials  of  which  he 
knows  not  the  history,  or  knows  by  a  glimmering 
tradition  merely — stones  not  of  this  building/  but 
of  an  older  architecture,  greater,  cunninger,  more 
majestical.  In  the  mediaeval  stories  of  no  Latin  or 
Teutonic  people  does  this  strike  one  as  in  those  of 
the  Welsh." 

The  Celtic  mythology  has  been  restored  and  ex- 
plained  by  Professor  John   Rhys  in   his  Lectures  on 


60  EUROPEAN    LITERATUKE — THE   DAKK    AGES. 

Celtic  Heathendom  and  in  The  Arthiorian  Legend.  The 
first  of  these  books,  with  its  many  citations  of  Welsh 
and  Irisli  stories,  exhibits  the  confusion  and  unreason 
of  those  ancient  monuments  of  human  fancy,  which 
are  at  first  so  little  attractive  to  the  reasonable  and 
enlightened  reader.  What  can  one  make  of  a  people 
whose  hero  (once  a  god,  it  is  thought)  is  called  "  The 
Distorted  of  Ireland,"  because  "  when  his  mind  was 
evil  he  would  draw  in  one  of  his  eyes  so  far  into  his 
head  that  a  tame  crane  could  not  peck  it,  and  shoot 
out  the  other  one  till  it  grew  as  big  as  a  cauldron  to 
boil  a  heifer  in,"  not  to  speak  of  twisting  round  the 
calves  of  his  legs  till  they  were  where  the  shins 
ought  to  be,  or  absorbing  all  his  hair  into  his  body, 
with  a  blood-drop  to  mark  the  place  of  each  particular 
hair,  and  other  variations.^ 

Probably  no  nation  ever  surpassed  the  Celts  in 
enjoyment  of  this  kind  of  distortion^  If  other  people 
over  the  face  of  the  earth  can  produce  extravagant 
and  grotesque  beliefs  in  sufficient  variety,  none  take 
them  in  the  same  way  as  the  Celts.  The  Northmen 
have  their  own  humorous  stories  of  the  adventures  of 
the  gods ;  the  Celts  go  far  beyond  them  in  the  revel 
of  fancy  supplied  from  primeval  sources,  extravagant 
fables,  which  are  only  not  monstrous  because  the 
reciters  see  the  fun  of  them.  There  is  an  exultant 
reckless  humour  in  the  story  of  Cuchulinn,  a  full  con- 
sciousness of  its  impossible  and  outrageous  qualities. 
This  is  part  of  the  history  of  Celtic  literature,  which 

^  Cf.  Rhys,  Celtic  Heathendom,  p.  438  ;  The  Sickbed  of  Cuchulinn, 
The  Feast  of  Brier iu  [Irische  Texte,  i.  207,  2G^),  &c. 


THE   ELEMENTS.  61 

also  has  another  side,  as  in  the  Northern  mythology 
likewise  there  is  botli  comedy  and  tragedy,  on  the  one 
liand  Tlior's  adventures,  on  the  other  the  Dream  of 
Balder.  In  the  literary  use  of  myth  among  the  Celts 
a  graver  and  more  beautiful  kind  of  imagination  re- 
veals itself  in  contrast  to  the  riot  of  distortion ;  not 
always,  indeed  not  often,  in  contradiction  to  it;  for 
the  Aristoplianic  blending  of  beauty  with  enormous 
laughter  seems  to  be  natural  to  the  Celtic  genius,  at 
any  rate  in  their  ancient  literature ;  that  is  their 
glory.  They  knew  the  eternal  tragic  questions  and 
problems,  the  strain  of  hopeless  courage  and  divided 
duties,  as  well  as  the  people  of  the  Teutonic  race. 
Cuchulinn's  destiny  makes  him  meet  his  best  friend 
and  his  son  in  combat ;  and  the  oppositions  of  loyalty 
and  private  affection  are  tragic  motives  well  under- 
stood in  the  Irish  tales.  Perhaps  the  finest  mood  of 
the  Celtic  mythology  is  chosen  in  another  kind  of 
story.  If  the  imagination  of  the  Northern  myth- 
ologists  was  dominated  by  the  thought  of  the  fall 
of  the  gods,  "  the  day  when  Odin  meets  with  the 
wolf,"  the  Celts  have  given  their  hearts  to  the  en- 
chanted ground,  to  the  faery  magic,  in  aiany  stories 
of  adventures  in  the  underworld,  and  voyages  west- 
ward to  an  island  paradise.^ 

Where  Babylonians,  Greeks,  and  Finns  have  jour- 
neyed, on  the  seas  beyond  the  earthly  coasts,  the 
Irish  have  no  exclusive  right.     But  they  have  thought 

^  This  subject  has  been  illustrated  most  conveniently  and  intel- 
ligibly by  Mr  Alfred  Nutt  in  the  essays  following  Dr  Kuno  Meyer's 
edition  of  the  Voyage  of  Bran. 


62  EUROPEAN    LITERATURE — THE    DARK   AGES. 

more  constantly  of  such  things  than  other  people, 
Nosmanet  ^nd  havc  made  more  of  them  in  their 
oceanus.  songs  and  stories.  To  no  people  has  the 
sea  appealed  in  the  same  way,  with  such  a  magical 
attraction.  The  Legend  of  St  Brandan,  derived  from 
the  older  Voyage  of  Maelduin,  came  to  be  known 
everywhere  throughout  Europe,  and  quickened  the 
senses  of  the  Mediterranean  people  with  a  breath  of 
the  Atlantic  winds  and  tides.  St  Brandan  stirred  the 
thoughts  of  the  less  enthusiastic  and  better  balanced 
Latin  minds,  and  one  gift  among  the  many  given  by 
Ireland  to  the  Continent  of  Europe  w^as  the  spell  of 
the  Ocean,  the  dream  of  a  glory  beyond  the  value  of 
mortal  things — 

"  On  that  vast  shore  washed  by  the  furthest  sea." 

But  apart  from  this  influence  on  the  world  through 
St  Brandan,  which  is  after  all  an  accidental  result, 
there  remain  the  achievements  of  Irish  imagination 
in  stories  and  poems  that  had  no  influence  at  all  in 
foreign  regions,  but  are  none  the  less  wonderful  and 
honourable :  such,  for  instance,  as  the  prose  and  verse 
of  the  Voyage  of  Bran.  Eor  the  Celts  in  their  mytho- 
logical literature  are  not  merely  the  channels  of  primi- 
tive tradition  ;  and  there  is  nothing  that  proves  their 
genius  more  truly  than  their  imaginative  treatment 
of  old  barbarous  things.  The  spirit  and  suggestion  of 
an  old  myth  works  upon  their  minds  and  takes  new 
form ;  myth  with  them  becomes  romance. 

The  importance  of  the  Celtic  fairy  tales  in  mediaeval 
literature  is  proved  by  a  thousand  references  to  "  the 


THE   ELEMENTS.  63 

matter  of  Britain  "  in  French  and  En  dish  books,  and 
in  all  the  other  languages  besides — 

"  Thise  olde  gentil  Bretons  in  hir  dayes 
Of  divers  aventiires  maden  laves  ;" 

and  Breton  lays  are  vouched  as  authorities  for  many 
romantic  stories  besides  that  of  The  FmnMin's  Tale. 
The  personages  of  them  are  often,  as  in  this  one  of 
Chaucer's,  unassociated  with  any  mythic  or  heroic 
cycle;  it  is  not  necessary  that  the  hero  should  be 
already  well  known  like  Tristram  or  Gawain.  Much 
of  the  "  matter  of  Britain  "  is  as  vague  in  its  history 
as  the  fairy  tales  that  begin  anywhere,  with  no  facts 
at  all  about  the  king's  son,  or  the  three  brothers,  or 
the  man's  daughter  and  her  step-sister.  Some  of  it, 
however,  is  under  the  dominion  of  great  names.  The 
historv  of  King  Arthur,  in  whatever  wav 

Arthur.        .  "  ,.,,..  .    ,  *^ 

interpreted,  is  a  tabric  in  which  all  possible 
strands  of  myth  and  heroic  tradition  have  been  plaited 
together:  quite  unlike  the  simple  stories  that  begin 
"Once  upon  a  time,"  with  no  historical  associations 
and  no  solemnity.  Arthur  becomes  many  different 
things  in  different  ages.  In  Nennius,  about  the  year 
800,  Arthur  is  the  commander  of  the  British,  dux  bel- 
lorum,  against  the  Saxons ;  he  fought  the  twelve  great 
battles,  the  last  of  them  at  Mount  Badon,  when  nine 
hundred  and  sixty  men  of  the  heathen  host  fell  before 
one  onset  of  Arthur,  et  nemo  prostravit  eos  nisi  ipse  solus. 
He  fell  along  with  Medraut  at  the  battle  of  Camlan 
in  537,  according  to  Annales  Ccunbrice.'^     He  has  this 

*  MS.  tenth  century. 


64  EUROPEAN   LITERATURE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

more  or  less  historical  character,  as  a  leader  in  the 
historical  conflict  between  the  Britons  and  their 
enemies.  But  in  the  tract  on  the  Marvels  of  P3ritain, 
early  joined  to  the  history  of  Nennius,  there  are 
vestiges  of  the  mythical  Arthur  who  comes  into  the 
story  of  Kulhivch  and  Ohuen,  and  of  the  hunting  of  the 
mighty  boar  whose  name  is  Troit:  the  footprint  of 
Arthur's  dog  Cabal  is  found  on  a  stone  in  a  cairn 
near  Builth.  In  Geoffrey  of  Monmouth  Arthur  is  a 
British  Charlemagne  or  Alexander,  antagonist  of  Eome, 
conqueror  of  many  kingdoms,  finding  a  tragic  death 
through  the  perfidy  of  his  wife  and  his  nephew.  In 
"the  French  Book"  followed  by  Sir  Thomas  Malory, 
the  French  Mort  Artus,  the  tragedy  is  deepened,  the 
Nemesis  more  dreadful.  But  in  many  parts  of  the 
prose  romance,  Arthur  is  as  little  interesting  as 
Cliarlemagne  in  many  of  the  French  epics :  Arthur 
and  Charlemagne  both  became,  for  many  story-tellers, 
mere  honourable  names  to  give  a  centre  for  the  in- 
cidents, to  preside  in  hall.  Yet  for  all  this  degradation 
neither  lost  the  power  derived  from  their  historical 
and  mythical  glory ;  they  remained  great,  for  any 
poet  who  chose  to  take  them  so  ;  Arthur  kept  his 
place  among  the  Worthies,  in  spite  of  the  many 
feeble  things  heaped  upon  him  by  romancers.  He 
never  had,  unfortunately,  for  the  English  or  French 
the  glory  tliat  even  his  own  people  of  Wales  too  soon 
forgot,  though  it  is  recorded  in  an  old  poem  which 
'*  evidently  deals  with  expeditions  conducted  by  Arthur 
by  sea  to  the  realms  of  twilight  and  darkness."  His 
name  "gathers  round  it  tlie  legends  of   heroes  and 


THE  ELEMENTS.  65 

divinities  of  a  past*  of  indefinite  extent.  In  other 
words,  he  and  his  men,  especially  Ktu  and  Bedwyr,  are 
represented  undertaking  perilous  expeditions  to  realms 
of  mythic  obscurity,  bringing  home  treasures,  fighting 
with  hags  and  witches,  despatching  giants,  and  destroy- 
ing monsters."  ^ 

This  is  not  his  proper  work  in  the  French  book, 
though  Arthur  keeps  a  little  of  the  dragon -slayer 
even  there.  "The  horror  and  the  hell"  invaded  by 
Arthur  in  his  ship  Prydwen  did  not  remain  in  the 
imagination  of  the  Arthurian  poets:  only  through 
antiquarian  research  is  one  enabled  to  look  into  that 
strange  region.  It  is  a  loss  for  poetry:  there  might 
have  been  yet  another  mediaeval  counterpart  to  the 
voyage  of  Ulysses  if  the  ship  Prydwen  and  her  for- 
tunes had  been  better  remembered  by  the  Welsh  and 
interpreted  to  their  French  or  English  neighbours. 

There  were  other  sources  of  Eomance  in  the  Middle 

Ages  which  it  is  not  irrelevant  to  mention  here;  the 

Bible  being  one  of  them.    The  Bible,  which 

The  Bible.      ^^^  ^^.^^  printed  in  the  shape  of  a  noble 

and  joyous  book  by  Coverdale  and  Cranmer,  a  book  to 
be  read,  not  broken  yet  into  verses  for  the  conveni- 
ence of  Geneva,  was  the  source  of  some  of  the  best- 
loved  stories.  Samson  and  David  took  their  place  freely 
along  with  Jason  and  Lancelot  in  popular  favour, 
long  before  the  roll  of  the  Nine  Worthies  was  made 
definite,  with  its  equal  allowance  of  honour  to  Jews, 

^  See  Rhys,  Introduction  to  Malory  (1893),  pp.  xxxv,  xxxvi.  The 
adventures  of  Arthur  belong  properly  to  the  second  volume  of  this 
series  ;  cf.  The  Flourishing  of  Romance,  c.  iii. 

E 


66  EUROPEAN   LITERATURE — THE    DARK    AGES. 

Paynim,  and  Christians.  Nor  was  it  only  Joshua 
and  Gideon  and  David's  captains  that  came  to 
reinforce  the  stories  of  Ogier  or  Charlemagne ; 
besides  the  addition  of  new  histories  and  adventures 
to  the  common  stock,  the  Bible  gave  to  the  new 
languages  more  than  can  be  estimated  of  new  rhetoric. 
The  diction  of  the  Bible  has  frequently  caused  trouble 
among  the  classically  educated,  who  have  found  it 
sometimes  necessary  to  apologise  for  the  vehement 
and  daring  metaphors  of  the  Old  Testament.  Its 
influence  on  styles  of  composition  is  a  subject 
which  would  lead  far  ;  but  one  thing  may  be  said 
with  confidence  about  its  part  in  the  Middle  Ages : 
that  it  could  not  fail  to  attract  the  vernacular  and 
popular  languages  to  imitate  and  repeat  its  sub- 
limities as  well  as  they  could  So  one  finds  the 
mystery  of  Celtic  stories  illustrated  with  citations 
from  the  Bible  ;  as  where  in  the  Arthurian  legend 
the  mysterious  delivery  of  captives  m  an  unearthly 
place  beyond  the  Bridge  of  Dread  is  celebrated 
as  it  might  be  in  a  chivalrous  Pilyrwi's  Progress 
with  the  verses  of  a  spiritual  song :  ''  Gawain  turned 
and  looked  back ;  and  behold,  across  the  river,  all 
the  streets  of  the  place  were  filled  with  men  and 
women,  rejoicing  and  singing  in  carol  ■  wise :  The 
'people  that  sat  in  darkness  have  heheld  a  great  light.'' 
There  is  another  delivery  of  captives  to  which  the 
same  song  belongs  more  properly,  the  story  of  The 
The  Harrowing  Harroiving  of  Hell  in  the  Gospel  of  Nico- 
ofHeii.  demus,  which  is  everywhere  known  in  the 

Middle  Ages,  and  everywhere  the  source  of  poetic  in- 


THE   ELEMENTS.  67 

spiration  and  of  that  wonder  which  does  not  belong 
exclusively  to  St  Erandan  and  his  fellows.  No  adven- 
ture of  heroes  in  the  land  of  the  dead  is  told  with  more 
complete  imaginative  sense  of  the  drama  of  Light  and 
Darkness  than  this  of  The  Harroioing  of  Hell.  It  makes 
one  of  the  noblest  passages  in  Piei^s  Ploivman  ;  and  it 
is  nothing  to  the  discredit  of  the  author  that  he  has 
repeated  what  no  length  of  study  could  improve,  the 
order  of  events  as  they  stand  in  the  original  Gospel 
and  as  they  were  kept  in  the  drama  of  the  Passion 
played  in  various  towns  in  England.  As  a  piece  of 
composition  the  story  lias  the  great  advantage  over 
other  heroic  legends  of  war  against  Hell  that  it  begins 
not  from  the  side  of  the  hero  but  with  the  captives 
in  darkness.  They  see  the  light  far  off,  they  hear 
the  confusion  and  boastful  preparation  of  the  fiends, 
and  the  light  when  it  strikes  in  at  the  everlasting 
gates  in  the  name  of  the  King  of  Glory  encounters 
and  defeats  a  darkness  which  has  held  the  reader 
in  its  tyranny  along  with  the  spirits  in  prison.  It 
is  more  terrible  in  that  way  than  if  one  entered  in 
the  company  of  the  triumph.  The  many  later  versions 
of  The  Harrowing  of  Hell  may  generally  be  judged 
according  as  they  observe  this  original  design  or 
lose  the  effect  of  it  by  beginning  the  story  from 
the  other  side,  as  some  of  them  feebly  do.^ 

The  romance  of  Alexander  attracted  to  itself  a  vast 
amount  of  mythology  from  unknown  sources  in  the 
East :  it  is  impossible  to  say  how  old  the  stories  are 

^  The  story  is  finely  given  from  the  Gos-pel  of  Nicodemus  in  Mr 
Raleigh's  Milton. 


68  EUROPEAN    LTTEKATURE — THE   DARK    AGES, 

that  gathered  round  Alexander,  or  to  trace  their  influ- 
ence exactly  in  the  new  lands  of  the  West. 
The  romance  as  distinct  from  the  suffi- 
ciently wonderful  true  history  had  its  rise  in  Egypt : 
the  motive  was  to  find  in  Alexander  the  true  successor 
of  the  ancient  Egyptian  line :  Alexander  is  the  son 
not  of  Philip  but  of  Nectanebus  king  of  Egypt.^  The 
Greek  book  ascribed  to  Callisthenes,  really  written 
about  200  A.D.,  was  translated  into  Latin  and  became 
popular  in  the  version  of  Julius  Valerius ;  and  besides 
that  book,  the  letter  of  Alexander  to  Aristotle  on 
the  wonders  of  India,  and  the  colloquy  of  Alexander 
with  Dindimus  the  Brahmin,  circulated  independently, 
and  led  to  separate  works  in  the  different  vernaculars. 
Probably  there  is  little  invention  in  all  the  romance : 
it  drew  to  itself  the  fragments  of  many  mythologies. 
It  may  be  that  Irish  or  German  readers  of  the 
Alexander  book  found  themselves  in  possession  of 
something  in  which  they  had  hereditary  right,  for 
many  things  in  the  story  resemble  passages  in  Celtic 
and  Teutonic  myth  ;  it  may  be  that  the  adventures 
of  Alexander  come  from  the  same  antique  original 
as  the  voyages  of  Arthur  against  the  uncouth  fortresses 
named  in  the  old  Welsh  poem,  or  the  expeditions 
of  Thor  against  the  trolls.  It  is  not  impossible  either 
that  some  of  the  resemblances  may  be  due  to  early 
Western  borrowing  from  the  Alexander  legend.  Dr 
Zimmer  has  pointed  out  that  Loeg,  the  charioteer  of 
Cuchulinn,  is  described  in  the  oldest  Irish  documents 
of   that   cycle    as    wearing   a   garment   presented  by 

^  See  The  Flourishing  of  Romance,  c.  iv. 


THE   ELEMENTS.  69 

Simon  Magus  to  Darius,  King  of  the  Eomans.  The 
inference  is  that  a  foreign  strain  may  be  looked  for 
in  very  early  Irish  legend :  it  is  possible  that  along 
with  reading  and  writing  there  may  have  come  the 
stories  of  the  wonders  of  India,  and  other  still  stranger 
lands,  to  increase  the  Celtic  collection  of  tales  ;  perhaps 
even  the  adventures  of  Alexander  may  have  helped 
the  story  of  Maelduin.  For  a  large  part  of  the  world, 
at  any  rate,  if  not  for  Ireland,  the  Alexander  romance 
was  an  introduction  to  the  Eastern  mythology.  Some 
of  it  appears  to  be  as  old  as  anything  in  fable.  The 
central  and  most  generally  quoted  part  of  the  story 
has  three  main  incidents  in  it :  the  ascent  of  Alexander 
to  Heaven  ;  his  inclusion  of  Gog  and  Magog  in  a  wall 
not  to  be  scaled  nor  broken  ;  his  descent  into  the 
sea  in  a  glass  box.  The  second  of  these,  Gog  and 
Magog,  is  connected  with  the  history  of  Antichrist, 
for  at  his  coming  Gog  and  Magog,  the  hideous  nations, 
are  to  burst  from  their  prison.  The  ascent  of  Alexander 
has  a  different  kind  of  interest.  As  generally  told, 
it  is  an  ascent  of  the  same  sort  as  that  of  Nimrod 
in  Victor  Hugo's  poem  (an  Arabian  tradition),  in  a 
car  borne  up  by  eagles.  This  adventure  of  Nimrod, 
which  is  told  of  another  great  king  in  the  poem  of 
Firdausi,  seems  to  come  from  a  Babylonish  tale,  and 
may,  as  Mr  Wall  is  Budge  remarks,  have  been  in- 
definitely old  in  Babylon.  Etanna,  for  that  is  the 
name  of  the  hero,  is  carried  up  to  heaven  by  an  eagle, 
who  points  out  to  him  the  diminishing  earth  and 
ocean  below  him — an  ancestor,  probably,  of  the  eagle 
in    Chaucer's    House   of  Fame.     The   motive   is   that 


70  EUROPEAN    LITERATURE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

of  the  Somnium  Scijno^iis,  used  with  a  satirical  purpose 
in  the  Icaromenippus  of  Lucian,  and  common  in  many 
literatures.  It  seems  as  if  Alexander  had  taken  up, 
in  the  East,  a  number  of  adventures  and  attributes 
which  in  rather  difierent  forms  were  already  known 
to  Greeks,  Eomans,  Celts,  and  Germans:  the  romance 
of  Alexander  broke  into  an  old  treasury  of  fable 
which  had  been  partly  plundered  before.  A  strange 
thing  about  it  is  that  the  wildest  versions  given  in 
Mr  Budge's  Ethiopic  Alexander  often  contain  analogies 
to  Western  myth  which  are  not  found  in  the  Greek 
or  Latin  texts ;  the  Ethiopic  Alexander  is  much  more 
like  Maelduin  than  anything  in  the  Vv^estern  Alexander 
books.  But  that  is  not  for  the  present  occasion ; 
it  is  enough  to  recognise  the  legend  of  Alexander  as 
a  large  addition  to  the  literary  stock.  Alexander 
became  later  a  chivalrous  hero,  but  before  that  he 
was  accepted  gladly  all  over  Europe  as  one  more 
of  those  adventurers  who  find  their  way  beyond  the 
known  limits  of  the  world.  The  story  of  his  wander- 
ings was  valued  because  it  was  full  of  views  about 
far  countries.  Mandeville  continues  what  the  letter 
to  Aristotle  be^an. 

Visions  of  the  otiier  world,  like  those  in  the  Re- 
publics of  Plato  and  Cicero,  are  frequent  in  the 
Middle  Ages,  and  the  source,  direct  or 
indirect,  of  a  large  amount  of  literature  in 
verse  and  prose.^ 

The  Vision  of  St  Paul  was  rejected  as  fabulous  by 
^Ifric  and  many  others,  because  of  the  words  of  St 

^   Wiight,  St  PaLvicTc's  Purfjcdory  ;  D'Ancon.i,  Precursori  di  Dante. 


THE   ELEMENTS.  71 

Paul  himself — "  things  that  cannot  be  uttered."  But 
for  all  that  the  Vision  was  widely  received  in  all 
languages.  The  Visions  of  Furseus,  of  Drihthelm, 
of  Salvius/  of  Wettin,  and  others,  begin  in  the  same 
way  as  that  of  Er  in  Plato,  the  man  apparently  lying 
dead  while  his  soul  is  conducted  through  hell  and 
heaven. 

One  great  beauty  in  the  stories  of  these  visions  is 
that  they  are  indeed  explorations  of  untravelled 
countries :  they  are  not  bound  by  conventional  theories, 
nor  are  they  mere  repetitions  of  teaching.  The  places 
seen  by  these  travellers  are  not  the  formal  and  sym- 
metrical provinces  described  by  Dante ;  their  souls 
pass  out  into  the  waste  places  of  the  universe,  the 
regions  of  a  wilder  and  more  primitive  belief  than 
that  of  the  Divine  Comedy} 

The  vision  of  Wettin,  Monk  of  Eeichenau  (  +  824), 
is  found  in  his  prose  life  by  the  Abbot  Heito  (  +  836), 
which  is  the  substance  of  a  Latin  poem  by  Walafrid 
Strabo :  it'has  the  character  of  a  real  vision,  at  least 
in  its  independence  of  the  traditional  pictures  of  hell. 
Wettin  travelled  through  a  landscape  like  that  of  The 
Pilgrim's  Progress,  a  world  like  this  world  in  its 
variety  and  its  surprises.  Hell  is  wide,  and  much  of 
it  is  empty.  The  torments  have  no  allotted  place  or 
gradation.  Wettin  found  a  former  abbot,  Waldo,  in 
purgatorial  torment  on  a  mountain  top,  beaten  by  the 

^  Gregoiy  of  Tours,  Hist.  Franc,  vii.  1. 

^  One  of  the  most  beautiful  stories  of  this  sort  is  a  Maori  one, 
qiLULed  by  Dr  Tyler  in  Primitive  Culture,  ii.  50.  See  also  Ilhys. 
Celtic  Healhendom,  265. 


72  EU  HOPE  AN    LITERATUEE — TflE   DARK   AGES. 

winds.  The  angel,  his  guide,  took  and  led  him  by 
a  wondrous  pleasant  way  till  they  came  to  high 
beautiful  mountains  of  marble-stone,  as  it  seemed: 
round  about  the  foot  of  the  mountain  went  a  fiery 
river,  in  which  an  innumerable  multitude  of  the 
damned  were  being  punished,  many  of  whom  he  knew. 
In  one  place  he  saw  a  hideous  castle  with  smoke  ris- 
incf  from  it,  and  was  told  that  it  was  for  the  tribula- 
tion  of  certain  monks  brought  together  there  to  be 
purified;  one  of  them  in  a  leaden  ark  till  the  Day 
of  Judgment,  because,  like  Ananias  and  Sapphira,  he 
had  sinned  against  the  order.  The  place  of  glory  is 
a  city  or  a  castle  built  with  arches  of  gold  and  silver, 
adorned  with  sculpture  {opere  anaglifo):  he  comes 
to  it  on  his  way,  like  Christian  ;  he  is  not  carried  up 
to  heaven. 

The  Bridge  of  Dread  is  found  in  many  of  these 
narratives,^  as  in  the  Irish  Vision  of  Adamnan  and 
the  Vision  of  Tundal — 

"Over  that  lake  thai  se  lygge 
A  wonder  longe  narowe  brygge, 
Two  myle  of  lengtht  hit  was  semancle, 
And  scaisely  the  brede  of  ane  hande." 

It  is  known  in  many  romances,  Gawain  and  other 
knights  have  to  attempt  it,  for  many  ways  lead  from 
King  Arthur's  court,  some  of  them  in  plain  daylight, 
like  that  followed  by  Geraint  along  the  ridge  from  the 
Usk  to  Cardiff,  others  again  through  valleys  of  dark- 
ness and  ominous  woods  to  the  river  of  Death.     Be- 

^  Cumpuie  also  St  G le^oiy' s  JJialoyues,iv.  37;  St  Buuit'ace,  Epistles. 


THE   ELEMENTS.  73 

yond  that  are  walls  and  towers,  and  other  forests, 
hills,  and  plains.  There  are  some  knights  who  have 
brought  back  a  report  of  it. 

How  Buddha  came  to  be  a  saint  of  the  Church,  in 
the  legend  of  Barlaam  and  Josapliat,  has  been  gradu- 
ally discovered  and  explained  in  the  writings  of 
several  scholars.^  Solomon  contributed  in  a  less 
honourable  way  to  the  literature  of  the  Middle  Ages, 
through  the  legend  of  his  unfaithful  wife  which 
appears  in  the  romance  of  Cliges,  and  through  the 
Dialogue  tradition,  in  which  his  wisdom  is  met  and 
parodied  by  the  irreverent  genius  of  Marcolf.  The 
same  fashion  of  dialogue  led  to  a  different  myth  about 
another  wise  man  ;  Epictetus  as  well  as  Buddha  be- 
comes a  legend,  in  Ypotis,  so  strangely  noted  by 
Chaucer  as  a  specimen  of  romance. 


iV. 


"The  Heroicall  Poetry  of  the  old  Bards  of  W;iles  and  Ireland  (and 
perhaps  all  other  Barberous  Nations),  who  at  publique  Solemnities 
were  wont  to  sing  the  Prayses  of  their  valiant  Ancestors,  was  the 
Originall  of  all  the  more  Elegant  Greeke  and  Roman  Epique  Poems." 
— Samuel  Butler's  Com.raonplace  Book,  fol.  203. 

Heroic  poetry  and  the  heroic  motives  in  literature 

were  well  known  in  the  Dark  Ages ;  indeed  they  give 

The  Heroic     thosc  agcs  their  character  more  than  any- 

Poem.  thing  else,  apart  from  the  educational  Latin 

influences.     It  is  the  age  in  which  the  exploits  and 

conflicts  of   kings  and  chieftains  have   transcendent 

^  Gaston  Paris,  Polities  et  Ltgendes  ;  Jacobs,  Barlaam  and  Josaphat. 


74  EUROPEAN   LITERATURE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

importance  for  the  minds  of  their  people,  and  find 
their  record  in  different  fornis  of  poetry,  to  all  of 
which  the  name  heroic  is  appropriate.  In  the 
Teutonic  and  also  in  the  Romance  tongues  a  kind  of 
narrative  poem  is  gradually  brought  to  completion,  for 
which  the  title  of  Epic  has  been  found  acceptable. 
The  old  Teutonic  epic  poetry,  the  old  French  epic, 
Bcoioulf,  and  Roland, — these  are  works  of  the  Dark 
Ages,  which  might  more  honourably  be  called,  and  not 
less  correctly,  the  Heroic  Age  of  the  North. 

Beowulf  and  Roland  are  epic  poems,  more  or  less 
complete  and  orderly ;  but  these  are  not  the  only 
shapes  in  which  heroic  themes  were  represented. 
They  came  at  the  end  of  a  long  process  of  elabora- 
tion, the  history  of  which  is  not  easy  to  make  out. 

There  are  many  references  in  Latin  historians  to 
songs  in  which  Teutonic  kings  are  praised.  The 
"Saxon  Poet"  who  turned  into  Latin  verse  the  life 
of  Charles  the  Great  says  that  there  were  many  songs 
in  the  vulgar  tongue  in  honour  of  the  Carlovingian 
house,  the  ancestors  of  Lewis  the  Pious : — 

"Est  quoque  jam  notiim  :  vulgaria  carmina  magnis 
Laudibus  ejus  avos  et  proavos  celebrant : 
Pippinos  Carolos  Hludovicos  et  Tlieodricos 
Et  Carlomannos  Hlothariosque  canunt." 

But  there  are  different  ways  of  singing  about  a  king 
and  hero,  and  some  of  these  are  easily  enough  dis- 
tinguislied  in  the  history  of  the  Middle  Ages.  The 
proper  epic — the  noble  and  dignified  narrative  poem — 
is  too  complicated  a  thing,  and   requires   too   much 


THE   ELEMENTS.  75 

preparation,  to  flourish  everywhere.  There  are  simpler 
kmds  of  verse,  ballads  sung  in  country  choruses,  like 
the  song  of  Cloth  air  II.  referred  to  in  the  Life  of  St 
Faro.  Clothair  died  in  628;  the  saint's  Life  was 
written  in  the  ninth  century.  There  it  is  told  how 
Clothair's  victory  over  the  Saxons  passed  into  popular 
songs  among  the  common  people,  and  how  choruses  of 
women  kept  time  to  the  song, — 

"Ex  qua  victoria  carmen  publicum  jnxta  rusticitatem  per 
omnium  pene  volitabat  ora  ita  canentium,  femingeque  choros 
inde  plaudendo  componebant  : 

De  Chlothario  est  canere  rege  Francorum 

Qui  ivit  pugnare  in  gentem  Saxonum 

Quam  graviter  provenisset  missis  Saxonum 

Si  non  luisset  incl}  tus  Faro  de  gente  Burgundionum. 

Et  in  fine  liujus  carminis  : — 

Quando  veniunt  missi  Saxonum  in  terram  Francorum 

Faro  ubi  erat  prince ps 

Instinctu  Dei  tran=eunt  per  urbem  Meldorum 

Ne  interticiantur  a  rege  Francorum. 

Hue  enim  rustico  carmine  placuit  ostendere  quantum  ab  omni- 
bus celeberrimus  habebatur  {sc.  Faro)." 

In  the  same  sort  of  words  will  later  historians  tell 
how  the  heart  of  the  people  is  touched  by  momentous 
heroic  or  tragic  occurrences  in  their  own  day,  and  how 
they  turn  their  news  into  ballads.  So  Barbour  of  the 
strife  in  Eskdale  : — 

"I  will  nocht  T^ehers  all  the  maney 
For  quha  sa  likis  thai  mai  heir 
Young  women  quhen  thai  will  play 
Syng  it  emang  tbame  ilke  day." 


76  EUROPEAN   LITERATURE — THE   BARK   AGES. 

So  Mr  James  Melville  of  the  death  of  the  Earl  of 
Moray:  "the  horrour  of  the  deid  of  Dinnibirsall, 
qnhilk  the  unburied  corps  lyand  in  the  Kirk  of  Lcithe 
maid  to  be  nocht  oiilie  unburied  amaiigs  the  peiple, 
but  be  comoun  rymes  and  sangs  keipit  in  recent 
detestation."  Common  rhymes  and  songs  amongst  the 
people  {juxta  riisticitatcm),  ballads  sung  by  girls  in  a 
ring,  may  have  much  of  the  heroic  spirit,  even  much 
of  the  epic  manner,  but  the  epic  poem  does  not  belong 
to  those  singers  or  their  audiences.  Heroic  poetry 
requires  a  court,  like  that  of  Alcinous  in  the  Odyssey 
or  that  of  Hrothgar  the  Dane  in  Beowulf ;  and  it  is 
not  in  every  house,  even  of  great  men  with  a  taste  for 
such  things,  that  the  epic  narrative  is  to  be  found. 
Much  heroic  poetry  of  the  Middle  Ages  is  not  narrative 
but  lyric.  As  the  girls'  dancing  song  is  one  of  the 
oldest,  at  least  one  of  the  commonest,  types  of  popular 
poetry  in  different  countries,  so  the  lyric  eulogy  of  a 
chieftain  (alive  or  dead)  is  the  established  form  of 
courtly  entertainment  offered  by  a  literary  artist  to 
his  patron,  essentially  unvarying  in  motive  in  different 
parts  of  the  w^orld.  The  courtly  lyric  of  praise  is 
specially  cultivated  by  Celtic  and  Scandinavian  poets, 
and  it  may  be  that  their  attention  to  this  branch  of 
the  art  may  have  hindered  the  progress  of  epic  in 
Ireland  and  Norway.  However  that  may  be,  the  lyric 
of  praise  is  something  different  from  the  epic  of  ad- 
venture, though  the  two  kinds  may  have  much  in 
common.  The  lyric  may  have  much  historical  mattei" 
m  it.  The  Icelandic  court  poems  were  used,  scientifi- 
cally, as  sources  for  the  lives  of  the  Kings  of  Norway. 


THE   ELEMENTS.  77 

''There  were  scalds  at  the  Court  of  Harald  Fairhair, 
and  their  poems  are  known,  and  likewise  poems  about 
all  the  kings  tliat  have  been  in  Norway  since.  And 
we  have  taken  evidence  chiefly  from  those  poems  that 
were  recited  before  the  great  lords  themselves  or  their 
sons  :  we  hold  it  all  for  truth  that  is  found  in  these 
poems  about  their  expeditions  and  battles.  It  is 
indeed  the  custom  of  poets  to  praise  him  most  before 
whom  they  stand ;  but  no  one  would  dare  to  tell  the 
king  of  exploits  which  every  one  who  heard,  and  the 
king  himself,  would  know  to  be  vanity  and  lies ;  that 
were  scorn  and  no  praise."  This  is  Icelandic  historical 
criticism,  in  the  preface  to  the  history  commonly  called 
Heimskrivyla.  But  the  historical  matter  of  the  Court 
poems  is  not  expressed  in  an  epic  way.  The  Oxford 
editors  have  given  a  convenient  diagram  of  the  regular 
Court  method,  which  shows  the  difference  clearly.^ 
"  The  type  and  plan  of  the  Court  poem  might  be  rep- 
resented in  six  lines : — 

Introduction.       The  Poet  brings  the  King  a  poem. 

/  The  King  launched  his  ship.          \  Historical 

'  He  met  his  foes  at  N.                      J  fact. 

Body  xn.        \  ^^  battened  the  wolf,                      j  Embellish- 

V  And  quenched  the  raven's  thirst.  J  ment. 

End.  The  King  will  reward  the  Poet. 

And  every  subject  and  object  throughout  every  poem 
is  put  into  a  more  or  less  dark  and  rigid  dressing  of 
metaphor."  Here  the  adventures  themselves  are  not 
the  main  thing:  what  the  poet  wishes  to  bring  out  is 

a  P.  B.,  ii.  449. 


78  EUROPEAN    LITERATURE — THE   DARK    AGES. 

their  value  as  proof  of  the  king's  excellence  in  war. 
Epic  mailer  goes  into  the  lyric  of  praise,  as  in  the  song 
of  Deborah  or  in  Pindar,  but  the  narrative  interest  is 
not  the  chief  motive,  and  does  not  determine  the  form 
of  the  poem. 

While  it  is  convenient  and  necessary  to  distinguish 
between  popular  and  courtly  })oetry,  the  distinction 
need  not  be  carried  too  far.     It  does  not  mean  that 
there  was  no  relation  between  the  two.     On  the  con- 
trary, the  history  of  the  most  polite  and  artificial  of 
the   mediseval  forms  of   verse — e.g.,  of   the  lyrics  of 
Provence  and  Germany — proves   a   close   connection 
between  the  wild  stock  and  the  cultivated  varieties, 
while  the  Celtic  and  the  Icelandic  types  of  elaborate 
poetry  are  found  spreading  wide  among  the  common 
people.      To  begin  with,  in  the  great  houses  of   an 
heroic  age  there  is  no  very  marked  difference  between 
the    tastes    and    occupations    of    the    king    and    his 
followers,   even   the   meaner    sort.      What    the    earl 
likes  the  churl  can   admire  in   his   own   way.      The 
epic  that  requires  the  society  of  a  court,  and  some- 
thing of  pride  and  warlike  honour  to  inspire  it  and 
give  it  substance,  is  not  retained  at  court  and  obliged 
to  be  exclusively  noble.     The  epic  soon  finds  its  way 
to  the  same  sort  of  gatherings  as  listen  to  the  rustic 
ballads.      The   minstrel   publishes   the    epic,   and    is 
welcomed   in   simple   houses,  drawing   children  from 
their  play  and  old  men  from  the  chimney-corner,  like 
Bernlef,  the  blind  Frisian  harper,  "  who  was  loved  by 
his  neighbours  because  he  was  of  an  open  and  free 
nature,  and  would  repeat  the  actions  of  the  men  of 


THE   ELEMENTS.  79 

old  and  the  contests  of  kings,  singing  to  his  harp 
courteously  "  (non  imcrhane  ^),  or  like  Carolan,  the  Irish 
bard,  described  in  much  the  same  tone  by  Goldsmith.^ 
Minstrels  less  gentle  than  Bernlef  or  Carolan,  the 
common  jugglers  of  fairs  and  market-places,  took 
about  witli  them  the  heroic  lays  and  made  them 
popular.  But  it  was  not  in  the  fairs  that  the  heroic 
poets  learned  their  manners.  Their  temper  is  not 
that  of  the  common  people.  The  kings  and  warriors 
of  their  poems  are  not  the  vague  magnificences  of 
fairy  tales  ;  they  are  personages  drawn  from  the  life, 
by  authors  who  understood  their  way  of  living  and 
thinking.  Heroic  poetry,  which  has  no  scruples 
about  the  truth  of  historical  events,  is  never  far  from 
truth  in  regard  to  fashions,  behaviour,  and  sentiment. 
The  manners  that  it  represents  are  courteous  and 
noble. 

It  is  disputed  whether  the  epic  verse  of  Beoumlf 
was   meant   for   singing.      But   the    question    rather 
Narrative     loses  its  poiut  whcu   the  modcm  distinc- 
verse.  ^^^^^  between  singing  and  recitation  is  dis- 

covered to  have  been  marvellously  uncertain  in  the 
Middle  Ages,  and  later.  The  epic  of  Tasso  is  known 
to  have  been  a  song  in  Venice ;  and  a  Spanish  writer 

^  Vita  Liudgeri,  Mon.  Germ.,  Scr.  ii.  p.  402. 

2  "  Of  all  the  bards  this  country  ever  produced,  the  last  and  the 
greatest  was  Carolan  the  Blind.  He  was  at  once  a  poet,  a  musician, 
a  composer,  and  sung  his  own  verses  to  his  harp.  The  original 
natives  never  mention  his  name  without  rapture  ;  both  his  poetry 
and  music  they  have  by  heart ;  and  even  some  of  the  English  them- 
selves who  have  been  transplanted  there,  find  his  music  extremely 
pleasing"  (Goldsmith,  Essay  xx-). 


80  EUROPEAN    LITERATURE — THE    DARK    AGES. 

on  music  iu  the  sixtecinth  century  gives  the  tune 
belonging  to  a  favourite  didactic  poem  of  Juan  de 
Mena,  which  in  print  looks  tame  enough  and  scarcely 
chantable.  Though  Beowulf  were  sung,  it  would  be 
none  the  less  a  narrative  poem,  and  the  verse  of  it 
is  not  lyrical.  The  verse  is  continuous,  not  in 
stanzas ;  it  is  recitative  verse,  fit  for  narrative.  The 
invention  of  narrative  verse,  such  as  will  carry  on 
a  long  story,  is  one  of  the  great  distinctions  that 
mark  the  appearance  of  true  epic,  and  that  give  to 
epic  its  proper  nature,  unlike  the  lyrical  ballad  or 
the  clioral  hymn,  though  these  of  course  may  have 
much  in  common  with  epic,  much  history  and  adven- 
ture mingled  in  their  argument  The  creation  of  epic 
verse  was  one  of  the  achievements  of  the  Dark  Ages, 
in  Teutonic  and  in  French  poetry. 

Besides  the  fairly  well  established  types  of  Beoivulj 
and  Roland,  forms  in  which  epic  poetry  may  be  said 
to  have  culminated  in  England  and  France,  there  are 
other  early  kinds  of  literature  with  much  of  the 
character  of  epic,  narrative  literature  with  much  of 
the  epic  spirit  in  it,  the  presentation  of  life  in  an 
heroic  age,  yet  without  the  complete  poetic  form, 
without  the  epic  verse.  Epic  in  prose  is  authorised 
by  Sidney,  Tasso,  Cervantes,  and  M,  de  Scudery  (not 
to  speak  of  Fielding),  and  the  ideal  which  is  described 
with  so  much  enthusiasm  and  eloquence  by  the 
Canon  in  Don  Qv.ixote  was  already  realised  in  the 
Middle  Ages  in  the  Icelandic  prose  histories  of 
Grettir,  Gisli,  and  Njal.  These  come  later  than  our 
time  and   are  described  in   the  next  volume  of   this 


THE    ELEMENTS.  81 

series,  but  the  Dark  Ages  in  our  restricted  sense  may 
claim  another  order  of  heroic  prose  in  Ireland;  the 
old  Irish  tales,  mythical  and  fantastic  as  many  of 
them  are,  include  also  the  more  human  motives  of 
epic;  the  meeting  of  Cuchulinn  and  his  son  Conlaoch 
corresponds  to  the  German  story  of  Hildebrand ;  and 
the  stand  made  by  the  sons  of  Usnech  against  the 
treachery  of  Conchobar  is  told  with  the  same  sort 
of  epic  interest,  the  same  tragic  heroism,  as  the  death 
of  Eoland  or  of  Grettir  the  Strong.^ 

It  is  not  perhaps  of  much  importance  for  the 
history  of  epic,  yet  it  can  hardly  be  ignored,  that 
Homeric  there  are  certain  commonplaces  of  actual 
manners,  jjfg  vvhich  reappear  in  the  heroic  litera- 
ture of  different  countries  and  make  a  kind  of 
prosaic  stuff'  for  the  poetic  imagination  to  work 
upon.  Epic  requires  a  particular  kind  of  warfare, 
not  too  highly  organised,  and  the  manner  of  the 
Homeric  battle  is  found  again  in  Germany,  Ireland, 
and  old  France.  The  fighters  are  bound  by  loyalty 
to  their  chieftains;  their  lords  are  their  patrons  and 
entertainers  who  have  given  them  gifts.  When  the 
time  comes  they  may  have  to  be  reminded  of  their 
obligations,  and  one  of  the  constantly  recurring  pass- 
ages in  epic  is  the  appeal  to  memory  of  benefits 
received.  The  captain  reminds  his  host,  or  one  of 
the  elder  men  reminds  his  associates,  of  the  bygone 
feasting  in  hall  when  the  horn  went  round  and  the 

^  For  analogies  between  the  Irish  and  the  Greek  heroic  ages,  see 
D'Arbois  de  Jubainville,  La  civilisation  des  Celtes  et  celle  de  Vepoque 
hom^rique  {Cours  de  litttrature  celtique.  Tome  vi.) 


82  EUKOPEAN    LITERATURE — THE   DARK    AGES. 

professions  of  biavery  along  with  it.  So  it  is  said 
at  the  battle  of  Malrlon,  "  Eemember  now  our  speeches 
that  we  spake  at  the  drinking  of  mead,  when  we  sat 
boasting,  heroes  in  hall,  of  the  stress  of  conflict;  and 
now  it  is  come  to  tbe  proof/' 

So  Wiglaf  in  Beowulf  speaks  to  his  companions 
when  they  refuse  to  follow  their  king  in  his  last 
enterprise : — 

"  I  remember  how  we  promised  our  lord  at  the 
feast  in  hall  wiien  he  gave  us  rings,  that  we  would 
make  him  requital  for  the  armour  he  gave  us,  rings 
and  good  swords,  if  need  should  befall,  as  now  it 
has  fallen." 

It  is  the  old  Homeric  appeal:  ''Argives,  whither 
have  sped  the  boastings  that  ye  boasted  en)ptily  in 
Lemnos,  eating  the  flesh  of  kine  in  plenty,  and  drink- 
ing wine  in  the  brim-full  cups,  when  each  was  a  match 
for  a  hundred  Trojans"  {II.,  viii.  228).  The  reproach 
of  Agamemnon  to  Menestheus  and  Odysseus — "You 
were  the  first  at  the  call  to  my  feast "  (iv.  343) — is 
repeated  in  the  king's  address  to  his  men  in  the 
Northern  poem  of  Hlocl  and  Angcmtyr}  "We  were 
many  at  the  mead  and  now  we  are  few  :  I  see  no 
man  in  my  company,  for  all  my  bidding  or  the 
rings  I  have  given  him,  that  will  ride  to  meet  the 
Huns."  2 

^  Corpus  Poeticum  Boreal e,  i.  351. 

2  "Fulfil  now  the  big  words  that  ye  have  uttered  m  tlie  drinking- 
houses"  {Battle  of  Ventry,  tr.  Kuno  Meyer,  p.  15).  Compare  also 
the  Spanish  ballad — 

■''  Aqui,  aqui,  los  mis  do.s(;icntos, 
los  que  conicdes  mi  pan." 


THE   ELEMENTS.  83 

The  moral  of  it  is  given  in  Saxo  Grammaticiis  in 
his  Latin  poem  on  the  death  of  Eolf: — 

"  Omnia  quae  poti  temiilento  prompsimus  ore 
Fortibus  edamus  animis." 

Which  may  be  reckoned  along  with  the  war -song 
of  Dinas  Vawr,  as  giving,  if  not  the  quintessence  of 
epic  poetry,  at  least  half  the  substance  of  the  life 
on  which  it  draws. 

There  is  reality  behind  the  epic  representation,  as 
might  be  proved  in  countless  ways.  The  sudden 
murderous  anger  in  which  Patroclus  killed  the  son 
of  Amphidaraas  at  a  game  of  knucklebones,  "witless 
not  willing  it,"— i/T^Trto?  ovk  idekwv  afi<f>'  aaTpa-^aXoiai 
Xo\co6€L<;,— is  one  of  the  motives  in  The  Four  Sons  of 
Aymon,  and,  historically,  in  the  fatal  quarrel  at  chess 
between  Canute  and  Earl  Wolf  his  brother-in-law. 
The  gibes  of  combatants  in  the  Iliad  might  be  illus- 
trated by  many  unseemly  passages  in  Icelandic  poetry 
and  prose,  or  from  the  Latin  epic  of  Waltharius,  which 
probably  represents  a  German  original.  The  like- 
nesses between  the  entertainment  of  Ulysses  in 
Phaeacia  and  Beowulf  in  the  house  of  the  Danish 
king  have  often  been  remarked  and  commented  on, 
and  still  remain  wonderful. 

These  things  belong  to  the  matter  of  epic,  and  not 
properly  to  the  poetry.  It  is  not  always  easy  to  keep 
The  Audience.  ^^^®  ^^^  aspects  distiuct.  The  point  of  view 
is  given  to  the  poet  by  the  traditions  of  the 
society  in  which  he  lives,  by  what  may  be  called  the 
heroic  convention,  so  that  his  heroic  facts  are  treated 


84  EUROPEAN   LITERATURE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

in  a  certain  obligatory  heroic  way ;  his  subject- 
matter  is  not  purely  material ;  it  has  been  idealised 
more  or  less  before  he  takes  it  in  hand.  Epic  poetry, 
heroic  literature  generally,  implies  not  merely  certain 
favourite  themes — combats,  battles,  killing  of  monsters, 
escapes,  and  defences — but  a  difjl'used  sympathy  for 
the  heroic  mood  among  the  people  for  whom  the  epic 
is  made.  We  may  suppose  that  where  the  epic  poem 
flourishes  there  is,  among  the  contemporary  people 
who  are  not  poetical,  something  like  the  epic  frame 
of  mind,  a  rudimentary  heroic  imagination  which 
already  gives  to  mere  historical  events  and  situations 
a  glimmering  of  their  epic  magnificence.  The  "  multi- 
tude "  in  an  heroic  age  interprets  life  heroically ;  and 
it  is  this  common  vague  sentiment  of  heroism,  not 
any  bare  uncoloured  unaccommodated  thing  in  itself, 
with  which  the  epic  poets  make  their  beginning. 
Their  real  life  is  heroic,  because  it  seems  so,  both  to 
them  and  to  their  unpoetic  fellows  and  hearers. 

If  the  battle  of  Maldon  becomes  Homeric  in  the 
old  English  poem,  it  is  partly  through  a  traditional 
common  mode  of  sentiment  and  imagination,  in  virtue 
of  which  an  action  such  as  this  of  Byrhtnoth's, 
courageous  and  admirable  enough  in  itself  from  any 
point  of  view,  is  naturally  and  instinctively  put  into 
an  epic  frame,  and  looked  at,  not  as  an  incident  in 
the  political  confusion  of  Ethelred  the  Unready,  but 
as  something  individual,  distinct,  apart  from  all 
political  complications,  for  the  time  being  the  most 
important  thing  in  the  world,  all-absorbing.  How 
different  the  actual  history  of  the  Wandering  of  the 


THE   ELEMENTS.  85 

Xations  is  from  the  epic  poetry  of  the  Germans,  how 
different  Theodoric  is  in  Cassiodorus  or  Charles  in 
Einhard  from  the  epic  Theodoric  or  Charlemagne,  is 
plain  to  every  one.  But  it  is  certain  that  the  actual 
world,  so  infinitely  more  complex  than  the  world  of 
heroic  poetry,  was  nevertheless  occupied  in  the  Dark 
Ages  with  the  heroic  ideal.  Neither  Popes  nor 
Emperors  nor  educational  reformers  nor  improvements 
in  the  art  of  war  were  able  to  obscure  the  heroic 
view  of  life.  For  the  purposes  of  poetry  there  was 
retained  a  kind  of  archaic  simplicity  of  politics  which 
did  not  allow  the  heroes  to  become  too  much  involved 
in  affairs,  which  let  them  stand  out,  self-reliant  and 
distinct,  as  heroes  of  epic  should.  Similarly  the 
fashions  of  war,  which  in  the  actual  world  were  not 
purely  Homeric,  were  by  common  consent,  in  poetry 
and  story -telling,  allowed  to  keep  their  old  rules; 
room  is  left  to  see  how  the  several  champions  demean 
themselves.  Also,  as  if  by  a  kind  of  instinctive  per- 
ception that  large  warfare  was  too  difficult  or  too 
complex  and  abstract  for  poetry,  the  epic  turns  by 
preference  to  adventures  where  the  hero  is  isolated 
or  left  with  a  small  company,  where  he  is  surprised 
and  assailed  in  a  house  by  night,  as  at  Finnesburh, 
or  where  he  meets  his  enemies  in  a  journey  ands  has 
to  put  his  back  to  a  rock,  like  Walter  of  Aquitaine. 
The  adventures  of  Kobert  the  Bruce  at  the  ford  of 
iLie  river,  and  in  the  deserted  house  with  the  three 
robbers,  and  elsewhere,  are  of  the  kind  which  the  epic 
tastes  of  many  different  nations  found  convenient 
for   the   heroic   poet.      It   is   part  of   the  history  of 


86  EUROPEAN    LITERATURE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

mediaeval  epic  that  there  was  tliis  popular  sympathy 
for  the  ris^ht  kind  of  adventure  and  the  ridit  heroic 
temper,  an  expectation  and  appreciation  of  certain 
favourite  themes  ;  while  it  was  at  the  courts  of  great 
men  like  those  which  the  poets  described  that  the 
definite  poetic  fashions,  the  proper  poetic  style  and 
diction,  were  elaborated. 


V. 

There  are  certain  common  forms  of  instruction  and 

literary  entertainment  which   have  a  large  iniluence 

on    the   culture   of  the   Middle  Ages   and 

Commonplaces  ,  ,  . 

and  common     mav  be  shortly  described   in    this   place; 

orms.  chiefly  the  Dialogue  and  the  Riddle. 

The  Dialogue  is  used  for  two  educational  purposes : 

as  a  convenient  mode  of  breaking  up  and  explaining 

matters  of  science,  and  again  as  a  device 

The  Dialogue.  ....  --t-*!  i-i 

for  exhibiting  rhetoric.  Both  are  combined 
in  some  of  the  most  popular  dialogues :  the  dialogue 
becomes  a  tradition,  generally  under  certain  favourite 
names  {e.g.,  Adrian  and  Epictetus),  admitting  a  variety 
of  answers  to  certain  common  questions.  Sometimes 
the  answer  gives  a  fact  for  information,  more  fre- 
quently a  rhetorical  amplification  of  the  topic  suggested 
in  the  query.  Alcuin's  dialogue  with  Pippin  ^  affords 
a  good  example  of  the  game.  It  is  in  two  parts. 
In  the  first,  Alcuin  (Albinus)  supplies  poetical  para- 

^  Disiiutatio  recalls  et  nobilissimi  juvenis  Pippini  cum  Albino 
schulastico.  See  W'ilmauus  in  Zeitschrift  fur  deuiaches  Alterthum, 
xiv.   530  sqq. 


THE   ELEMENTS.  87 

phrases  for  certain  cerins— '"'quid  esLlingcui?  llagel- 
lum  aeris:  quid  est  aer?  Custodia  vitse,"  &c.  In  the 
second  Alcuin  propounds  certain  allegorical  riddles 
and  his  pupil  finds  the  answer — e.g.,  Arrovj  is  thus 
disguised:  'a  woman  flying  with  a  face  of  iron,  a 
body  of  wood,  and  a  feathery  tail ;  bearing  death." 
To  which  Pippin  answers,  indirectly,  "  She  is  the 
companion  of  tsoldiers."  Another  is  the  villainous 
Riddle  of  the  Fishermen  ('•  What  we  caught  not,  we 
carry  with  us "),  which  did  not  cause  the  death  of 
Homer,  as  liis  fabling  biographer  asserts.^  The  dia- 
logue thus  supplied  two  common  rhetorical  wants. 
It  was  a  sort  of  rhetorical  catechism,  or  a  dictionary 
of  poetical  synonyms  and  periphrases, — varieties  of 
kenning,  to  use  the  convenient  and  intelligible  Norse 
name.  It  might  also  be  the  frame  of  a  collection 
of  riddles,  which  were  a  favourite  exercise  for  fancy 
and  rhetorical  skill  combined.  The  kenning  and  the 
riddle  were  two  forms  of  the  same  thing ;  the  riddle 
a  more  fully  developed  paraphrase  of  the  simple  idea. 
The  dialogue,  besides,  might  easily  become  a  debate — 
altercatio  Hadriani  Augusti  et  Epicteti  philosophi — a 
disputison,  to  use  the  favourite  English  term,  a  con- 
tention, a  jeii  parti,  with  a  wager  depending  on  the 
result,  as  in  the  Northern  dialogue  where  Odin  and 
the  Giant  debate  on  Cosmogony  or  the  creation  of 
the  world,  with  their  lives  at  stake.  There  are  some 
rather  strange  varieties  of  dialogue  in  the  Middle 
Ages ;    the    personages    introduced    are    not    always 

^  "  I  cannot  think  that  Homer  pined  away  upon  the  Riddle  of  the 
Fishermen"  {Reliyio  Medici,  ii.  8). 


88  EUROPEAN    LITERATURE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

simply  the  master  and  pupil,  an  abstract  pair.  Some 
noble  names  are  employed  in  this  service  and  under- 
go changes  of  reputation :  Epictetus  in  one  set,  and 
Solomon  in  another,  are  the  chief  of  them.  Epictetus 
becomes  Childe  Ypotis,  in  a  poem^  which  we  have 
Chaucer's  leave  to  call  a  romance. 

"A  chyld  was  sent  of  myglites  most 
Tliorow  vertu  of  the  Holy  Gost 
Unto  the  emperour  of  Rome, 
A  nobull  man  and  wyse  of  dome  ; 
The  emperour  of  Rome  than 
Men  called  hym  Syr  Adrian." 

The  dialogue  of  Ypotis  does  not  vary  greatly  from 

the  common  type :  most  of  it  is  doctrinal,  describing 

the  seven  heavens,  the  nine  ansjelic  orders, 

Ypotis,  ^ 

the  thirteen  reasons  for  fasting  on  Friday; 
but  there  are  some  relics  of  the  other  kind  of  answer 
which  paraphrases  poetically  and  does  not  give  any 
information  about  facts.  Sir  Adrian  asks,  "  What  is 
the  sea  ? " 

"  The  chylde  sayde  wy thout  lesyng  : 
A  wylde  way  of  wendynge. 
For  such  way  thou  myghtt  take  therinne 
That  thou  shalt  never  to  Gude  wynne." 

But  the  matter  of  dialogue  is  comparatively  unim- 
ponant :  the  person  of  Ypotis  is  everything  in  this 
new  version.  By  no  interpretation  at  the  hands  of 
the  great  doctors  and  schoolmen,  but  through  an 
obscure  and   gradual    change  in  tradition,  Epictetus 

^  li^d.  Hursbniann,  Altenglische  Leycnden,  neue  Folge,  1881. 


THE   ELEMENTS.  89 

of  the  dialogue  became  transfigured,  and  when  the 
Emperor  at  the  end  asks  Childe  Ypotis  whether  he 
be  wicked  angel  or  good,  the  answer  is — 

"  I  am  he  that  the  wroughth 
And  on  the  Rode  the  dere  bowghth." 

Solomon,  on  the  other  hand,  obtains  little  increase 
of  honour  in  the  process  of  tradition,  except  that 
Solomon  and  he  is  kept  in  remembrance.  In  the  Anglo- 
Marcoif.  Saxou  dialogues  ^  he  is  still  invincible  in 
knowledge,  and  Saturn  the  other  speaker  is  a  gentle 
opponent;  in  one  of  the  two  disputations  he  is  even 
a  humble  inquirer,  coming  to  Solomon  to  learn  the 
nature  of  the  Paternoster,  which  is  explained  to  him 
in  a  mjlhological  and  figurative  way.  But  later 
Solomon  fell  from  this  dignity,  when  Marcolf^  took 
the  place  of  Saturn.  Marcolf  is  mentioned  by 
Notker  of  St  Gall  in  the  eleventh  century  as  an 
example  of  vain  fables :  he  contended  with  the  pro- 
verbs of  Solomon.  This  was  the  part  he  took  in 
the  popular  literature  of  many  countries,  as  a  repre- 
sentative of  the  cynical  and  irreverent  wit  which 
parodies  every  solemn  sentence  of  the  wise  man, 
and  finds  either  an   exception  or  a  ludicrous   illus- 

^  The  Dialogue  of  Salomon  and  Saturnus,  edited  by  Kemble  for  the 
Mlhic  Society  (1848) ;  with  an  elaborate  study  of  the  whole  subject, 
and  many  specimens  of  similar  dialogues.  The  fortunes  of  Solomon 
in  Europe  have  been  admirably  told  by  Professor  MacCallum,  of 
Sydney,  in  his  Studies  in  Loio  German  and  High  German  Literature, 
1884. 

^  Marcvlfes  eard,  Marculf's  land,  is  mentioned  in  the  older  Anglo- 
Saxon  poem  as  one  of  the  places  visited  by  Saturn,  but  no  further 
reference  is  made  to  the  name. 


90  EUROPEAN   LITERATURE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

tration  for  every  one  of  his  proverbs.  Marcolf  has 
another  function  in  the  romance  oi  Salman  und  Morolf, 
where  he  is  the  squire  and  helper  of  the  wise  king, 
and  both  of  them  are  foiled  by  the  subtilties  of 
Solomon's  faithless  queen.  That  however  does  not 
belong  to  the  Dialogue,  though  it  is  part  of  the 
mythology  of  the  Middle  Ages,  another  of  the  trans- 
formations which  seem  to  have  been  carried  out  as 
effectively  in  the  later  mediaeval  centuries  as  in  the 
times  of  heathenism. 

The  form  of  dialogue  was  not  allowed  to  go  out 
of  use.  Among  the  most  popular  books  of  the  four- 
teenth century  are  the  French  Siclrac  and  Flacides  et 
Timeo}  which  went  abroad  to  other  nations  just  as 
Adrian  and  E-^idetns  had  done  long  before  them. 

The  Eiddle  was  much  employed  in  different  ways, 

besides   its   appearance  in  the  dialogues.      It  has  a 

vosue  independent  of  literary  fashions ;  it 

The  Riddle.  ■>  . 

adapts  itself  to  any  taste.  The  essence 
of  it  IS  that  it  should  be  an  allegory  of  some  sort. 
The  answer  to  it — that  is  to  say,  the  theme  of  the 
piece — is  a  simple  idea  :  a  cherry,  a  star,  the  letter  H. 
Swift  was  fond  of  this  game,  and  so  was  Hamlet  (in 
Saxo  Grammaticus). 

"  I  see  to  me,  I  see  from  me. 
Two  miles  iuid  ten  over  the  sea, 
The  man  of  the  green  coatie, 
And  his  shirt  sewn  with  a  thread  of  red. ' 


^  Described  by  Renan  and  Gaston  Paris  iu  the  Histoire  litteraire 
dc  la  France,  xxx.   and  xxxi. 


THE   ELEMENTS.  91 

That  is  the  rainbow,  in  CaDipbell's  West  Highland 
Tales,  where  there  are  many  more  of  the  same 
sort.  This  translation  of  ideas  is  peculiarly  fitted 
for  literary  exercises :  it  requires  neatness,  point, 
liveliness;  it  does  not  call  for  the  heavier  forces  of 
literature.  Hence  it  is  not  surprising  that  enigmas 
of  this  sort,  with  nothing  altered  in  their  methods 
of  fancy,  should  adapt  themselves  to  all  changes  of 
literary  expression.  There  is  nothing  to  choose 
between  the  riddles  of  Aldhelm  and  of  Swift,  as  far 
as  the  matter  goes.  The  procedure  is  exactly  the 
same,  only  the  language  and  the  forms  of  verse  are 
different.  The  riddles  that  Odin  put  to  King  Heidrek 
in  the  old  Norse  poem  have  tlieir  own  poetical  quality, 
a  distinct  character,  but  the  method  is  the  common 
one : — 

"Who  are  the  brides  that  walk  over  the  reefs,  and  drive 
along  the  friths  ?  These  white-hooded  ladies  have  a  hard  bed  : 
in  calm  weather  they  make  no  stir."     {The  waves.)  ^ 

Along  with  fancies  like  these  go  popular  jests  like 
the  analysis  of  the  cow : — 

"  Four  ganging,  four  hanging,  two  showing  the  way,  two 
keeping  the  dogs  off,  one  ever  dirty  lags  behind ; "  ^ — 

A  piece  of  the  wisdom  of  Odin  which  is  still  re- 
membered in  Shetland,  in  the  old  language.^ 

Every  age  and  country  has  its  own  variety  of  Kiddle 

1  C.  P.  B..,  i.  p.  90.  2  jj^i^^  p   91^ 

^  Jakubsen,  Bet  nor  rone  Sprog  paa  Shetland,  1897,  p.  17. 


92  EUROPEAN   LITERATURE — THE   DARK   AGES 

poem.     Meister  Trougemnnt  in  the  German  ballads  ^ 
answers  the  English  and  Scottish  questions — 

"  0  what  is  longer  than  the  way  ? 

Gar  lay  the  hent  to  the  bonny  broom, 
And  what  is  colder  than  the  clayl"^ 

Poetical  riddles  were  produced  in  England  more 
largely  than  anywhere  else  in  the  Dark  Ages,  both  in 
Latin  and  the  native  tongue.  Following  the  example 
of  the  riddles  which  pass  under  the  name  of  Sym- 
phosius,^  a  number  of  English  scholars — Aldhelm, 
Tatwine,  Boniface,  Alcuin — diverted  themselves  with 
the  composition  of  short  Latin  poems  of  this  kind. 
Pretty  early  in  the  history  of  English  poetry  the 
vernacular  language  was  applied  to  the  same  purpose ; 
with  a  surprising  ditf(jrence  in  literary  effect,  and  no 
change  at  all  in  the  general  principles  regarding  the 
matter  of  the  poems.  The  difference  is  that  the  old 
English  poetical  fashions  are  much  more  favourable  to 
this  kind  of  entertainment  than  anything  in  Latin. 
It  is  the  proper  business,  one  might  say,  of  the  old 
English  poetry  to  call  things  out  of  their  right  names. 
Fanciful  disguises  of  simple  ideas  may  be  practised 
anywhere,  by  all  the  children  of  the  world ;  but  no- 
where had  this  game  so  much  opportunity  of  develop- 

^  Uliland,  Deutsche  Volkslieder,  i.  1  ;  Miillenhoff  and  Scherer, 
Denkmiiler,  No.  xlviii. 

^  Child,  Ballads,  No.  1,  where  refeiences  are  given  to  similar  things 
in  different  languages. 

^  Ed.  Riese,  AiUholojia  I.atina ;  Baehreiis,  Poclije  Latini  Minures. 
V.  364  sqq. 


THE   ELEMENTS.  93 

ing  into  showy  literature  as  in  England  at  that  time. 
It  was  partly,  no  doubt,  the  English  taste  for  rhetorical 
efflorescence  that  led  Aldhelm  and  Alcuin  to  their 
Latin  riddles.  When  English  was  used  for  a  like 
purpose,  the  native  verse  proved  itself  infinitely  more 
lively  than  Latin,  Artifice  took  on  a  more  natural 
and  spontaneous  air  in  the  Anglo-Saxon  poems  of  this 
order :  the  task  was  well  fitted  for  the  genius  of  the 
poetry.  In  some  of  the  riddles  the  miracle  takes  place 
which  is  not  unknown  in  literary  history  elsewhere : 
what  seems  at  tirat  the  most  conventional  of  devices 
is  found  to  be  a  fresh  channel  of  poetry.  Many 
of  these  quaint  poems,  taking  their  start  from  a 
simple  idea,  a  single  term,  expatiate,  without  naming 
it,  over  all  the  life  of  their  theme,  and  the  riddle,  in- 
stead of  an  occasion  for  intricate  paraplirase,  becomes 
a  subject  of  imaginative  thought.  The  poets  of  the 
riddles  are  not  content  with  mere  brocading  work, 
though  they  like  that  well  enough :  but,  besides,  they 
meditate  on  their  subject,  they  keep  their  eye  on  it.^ 
The  riddle  becomes  a  shifting  vision  of  all  the  different 
aspects  in  which  the  creature  may  be  found — a  quick, 
clear-sighted,  interested  poem.  Though  it  is  only  a 
game,  it  carries  the  poetic  mind  out  over  the  world: 
as  not  unfrequently  with  the  Metaphysical  poets, 
the  search  for  new  conceits  will  land  the  artist  on 
a   coast   beyond    his    clever   artitices,    where  instead 

^  For  tlie  imaginative  quality  of  the  poetical  riddles,  especially  of 
English  as  compared  with  Latin,  see  MacCallum,  Anglo-Saxon 
Jocoseria,  in  the  volume  of  Studies  in  German  Literakire,  cited 
above. 


94  EUROPEAN    LITEHATUKE — THE    DAKK    AGES. 

of  the  vanities   of  False   Wit   there   are   the    truths 
of  imagination  : — 

"  Like  golden  lamps  in  a  green  night." 

Among  the  diversions  of  mediaeval  learning  few 
are  more  popular  than  the  moral  history  of  birds 
and  beasts  and  precious  stones.  The  chief 
work  of  this  description  is  known  generally 
2iS  Fhysiologus ;  otherwise  the  Bestiary.  It  spread  as 
far  as  the  stories  of  Alexander  and  the  jests  of  Mar- 
colf ;  its  methods,  far  from  outworn  in  the  Middle 
Ages,  reappeared  in  the  book  which  expresses,  best  of 
all,  the  commonplaces  of  the  Eenaissance — Ettphiies, 
the  Anatomy  of  Wit.  The  moral  interpretation  of 
the  lion,  the  eagle,  the  ant,  the  spider,  &c.,  which 
agreed  so  well  with  mediaeval  tastes,  was  continued 
by  Etqjhues,  and  proved  to  be  almost  too  attractive 
a  novelty,  though  it  was  as  old  as  the  language  itself 
and  had  been  repeated  for  centuries  unsparingly. 
The  original  Fhysiologus  was  most  probably  com- 
piled in  Egypt :  ^  the  animals  of  the  first  collection 
are  Egyptian.  Later  versions  show,  through  words 
strangely  corrupted,  how  the  creatures  themselves 
have  been  transformed :  thus  the  whale  by  its  name 
Fastitocalon,  in  the  Anglo-Saxon  poem,  proves  its 
identity  with  the  original  sea-turtle,  the  aspidoche- 
lone,  whose  broad  back  is  mistaken  for  an  island 
and  turned  to  a  convenient  and  successful  allegory, 

^  See  Physiologus  in  the  Encyclopedia  Britannica,  by  Dr  Land  of 
Le^'den. 


THE    ELEMENTS.  95 

though  the  whale,  later,  usurped  the  turtle's  claim. 
Other  treatises  in  like  manner  expounded  the  virtues 
of  precious  stones,  and  in  like  manner  were  translated 
and  circulated  everywhere.^  The  old  Italian  poem 
L' Intelligenza,  attributed  to  Dino  Compagni,  includes 
an  allegorical  Lapidary  along  with  the  adventures  of 
Julius  Csesar  and  other  themes  of  romance.  These 
tastes  and  habits  of  the  Dark  Ages  were  as  fresh 
as  ever  in  the  time  of  Dante. 

^  Cf.  I.es  Laj^idaires  frangais  du  moyen  age,  ed.  L.  Pannier,  1882. 


96 


CHAPTEE    III. 

LATIN    AUTHORS. 

THE  SIXTH  CENTURY — BOETHIUS — CASSIODOKUS — FORTUNATUS — GREGORY 
OF  TOURS — GREGORY  THE  GREAT — THE  DARK  AGE — ISIDORE — BEDE 
—  ADAMNAN — THE  REVIVAL  OF  LEARNING  UNDER  CHARLES  THE 
GREAT  —  ALCUIN — THE  PHILOSOPHY  OP  ERIGENA  —  THE  CAROLINE 
POETS — THEODULPUS — ERMOLDUS  NIGELLUS — WALAFRID  STRABO — 
HISTORIANS — EINHARD — PAULUS  DIACONUS — THE  MONK  OF  ST  GALL 
— THE  AGE  OF  THE  SAXON  EMPERORS — HROTSWITHA — LIUTPRAND — 
WIDUKIND — RICHER — EKKEHARD — GERBERT. 

THE  HISTORY  OF  POPULAR  LATIN  VERSE — BBDe's  PROSODY  OF 
RHYTHMICAL  POETRY— THE  AMBROSIAN  HYMNS  —  ST  AUGUSTINE — 
THE  SEQUENCES  —  VARIOUS  EXPERIMENTS  —  NORTHERN  THEMES  IN 
LATIN— WALTHARIUS — RUODLIEB — MODUS   FLORUM,    ETC, 

It  is  impossible  in  this  space  to  give  even  a  bare 
catalogue  of  the  Latin  works  written  in  the  Dark 
Ages.  "What  is  attempted  here  is  a  review  of  the 
more  interesting  writers,  with  reference  to  their 
value  either  as  representatives  of  their  time,  or  as 
models  for  those  who  came  after,  or  simply  as  writers 
of  things  worth  reading  for  their  own  sake.  Of  these 
latter  there  are  more  than  is  commonly  supposed  ; 
but  generally  it  must   be   allowed  there  is   need  for 


LATIN   AUTHOKS.  9*7 

some   sense   of   duty,  some    unliterary,   historical   or 
scientific,  motive,  to  carry  the  student  through. 

Taking  the  prose  authors  lirst,  it  is  fairly  easy 
to  classify  their  works  as  far  as  their  matter  is  con- 
Latin  Prose  ccmed,  and  as  most  of  them  are  occupied 
Science.  ^j^^  instruction,  this  kind  of  division  is 
a  natural  one.  One  group  is  formed  of  the  treatises 
that  explain  the  sciences,  from  the  encyclopedic 
works  of  Cassiodorus  and  Isidore  to  short  essays 
like  that  of  Bede  on  the  rules  of  Verse.  Along 
with  those  technical  writings  may  be  included,  for 
the  sake  of  their  matter,  philosophical  authors  as 
different  in  their  method  as  Boethius  and  Erigena. 
The  large  body  of  exposition  and  interpretation,  the 
work  of  Gregory  the  Great,  Alcuin,  Hraban,  Wala- 
frid  Strabo,  and  many  more,  is  closely  related  to 
the  more  abstract  scientific  or  philosophical  books  ; 
though  of  course  tlie  expositors  have  to  follow  a 
different  method  in  their  commentaries  from  that 
required  in  dealing  with  general  principles;  they 
have  to  follow  their  texts  from  point  to  point. 

History  might  conveniently  be  left  separate  from 
the  common  educational  stock,  from  the  books  con- 
cerned with  the  liberal  arts,  with  phil- 
"''^°'^'  osophy  or  theology.  History,  "immersed 
in  matter,"  gave  the  writers  of  the  Dark  Ages  a 
chance  of  describing  real  things,  and  also  of  using 
imagination.  The  historians  who  have  to  do  with 
action  and  life,  in  adventures  and  dialogues,  belong 
to  a  different  class  from  the  purely  didactic  authors. 
Of  course,  there  are  many  who,  like  Bede,  are  en- 

6 


98  EUROPEAN   LITEEATURE — THE   DAEK   AGES. 

gaged   in  all  the   kinds,  history  as   well   as  science 
and  divinity. 

Eomance   is  not  wholly  wanting  in  Latin  prose; 
besides  the  Apollonius  of  Tyre  and  Alex- 
ander  the   Great,   there    are    the    various 
legends  already  spoken  of  above,  and  a  great  quantity 
besides. 

Oratory  may  be  represented  by  all  the  homilies. 
Letter-writing  in  the  Dark  Ages  belongs  to  literature, 
Oratory  and  and  there  is  a  large  amount  of  it  of  differ- 
LeMers.  g^^^  sorts :  the  show  picccs  of  Cassiodorus 
in  his  office  of  Quaestor,  the  correspondence  of  Alcuin 
and  other  scholars  of  the  circle  of  Charles  the  Great, 
of  Hraban  and  Lupus  of  Ferrieres,  of  Rather  of 
Verona,  of  Gerbert. 

Latin  verse  is  less  easy  to  classify,  even  roughly: 

division  according  to  subject-matter  is  reasonable  in 

the  history  of  prose,  because  in  prose  the 

Latin  Verse.  «/  x  '  i 

matter  generally  determines  the  form ;  but 
it  is  less  relevant  in  verse.  And  in  mediaeval  Latin 
verse  the  forms  are  confused ;  the  old-fashioned  classi- 
fications fail.  The  great  distinction  is  that  of  Bede, 
between  "metrical"  and  "rhythmical" — i.e.,  between 
the  verse  that  intends  to  follow  classical  precedent  and 
that  which  pays  no  regard  to  quantity,  or  rather  makes 
new  principles  of  its  own.  But  although  the  unclassical 
Latin  verse  may  form  a  species  by  itself  with  various 
distinct  types  included  in  it,  the  opposite  kind,  the 
verse  of  the  classical  tradition,  is  not  classical  enough 
for  a  comfortable  and  summary  description.  There  is 
too  much  mixture  in  it ;  the  pedigree  is  seldom  clear. 


LATIN   AUTHORS.  99 

Many  ot  the  poems  that  profess  to  observe  classical 
measures  are  Goths  and  Vandals  in  clothes  that  do 
not  fit  them,  barbarians  trying  on  things  they  do  not 
understand,  conceited  and  not  sober.  But  it  is 
possible  to  select  the  more  reputable  examples.  These 
taken  by  themselves  do  form  a  distinct  order :  the 
Latin  court  poetry  of  which  Fortunatus  in  the  sixth 
century  and  Theodulfus  in  the  time  of  Charles  the 
Great  are  the  chief  masters.  This  complimentary 
rhetorical  verse,  though  it  may  be  heavy  stuff  com- 
pared with  the  freedom  of  Latin  rhymes  or  Teutonic 
lays,  is  of  an  honourable  descent  and  has  some  right 
to  its  lofty  demeanour.  It  continues  the  school  of 
Claudian  and  Ausonius:  it  has  not  all  their  virtue, 
though  it  has  most  of  the  defects  of  its  ancestry — the 
limitation  of  range  which  had  been  the  impediment 
of  Latin  poetry  from  the  first,  the  dependent  spirit 
which  had  accompanied  all  the  poetry  of  the  Empire. 
Still,  it  is  not  to  be  passed  without  respect;  it  had 
high  principles  in  literature,  and  more  liveliness  than 
might  be  expected  from  a  creature  so  full  of  literary 
responsibility. 

Leaving  the  division  into  orders,  and  turning  to 
the  succession  of  periods,  one  finds  this  unsatisfactory 
Perio<js-{he  ^usiucss  made  easy  by  the  plain  fact  that 
seventh  century  there   is   a   vacaucy  in    the   seventh   qqh- 

is  the  Dark  Age.  ,  'L^      ^•i,^       ^        -i         ,i  t  t 

tury,  with  little  besides  the  encyclopedias 
of  Isidore  and  the  rhetoric  of  Aldhelm  to  fill  the  gap 
till  the  appearance  of  Bede  in  a  new  generation.  Thus 
the  sixth  century  defines  itself  against  the  greater 
darkness  of  the  seventh,  throwing  into  relief  the  per- 


100        EUROPEAN   LITERATURE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

sonages  of  Boethius,  Cassiodorus,  Gregory  of  Tours, 
Fortuuatus,  Gregory  the  Great.  At  the  end  of  the 
seventh  century  Bede  comes  out  to  sliow  what  tradi- 
tions of  learning  had  been  quietly  preserved  in  Ire- 
land and  Britain.  With  Alcuin,  a  century  later  still, 
the  work  of  Bede  is  continued.  The  revival  of  learn- 
ing under  Charles  the  Great  is  a  means  of  diffusing 
widely  what  Bede  had  begun.  In  the  ninth  century 
new  schools  take  up  the  succession,  Fulda  especially, 
then  St  Gall ;  new  contributions  came  from  the  old 
Irish  sources,  the  scholarship  of  Sedulius  Scottus,  the 
philosophy  of  Erigena:  new  forms  of  verse  are  in- 
vented, the  Sequentice  and  their  kindred.  But  there  is 
after  that  no  distinct  epoch  in  Latin  literature  before 
the  rise  of  the  scholastic  philosophy  under  Ansel m 
and  Abelard. 

The  result  of  this  summary  view  is  that  the  sixth 
century  is  marked  off  pretty  distinctly  as  a  period  by 
itself;  and  that  what  follows  after  Isidore  and  Bede, 
though  divisible  into  periods  for  the  sake  of  con- 
venience, is  not  broken  by  any  notable  revolution, 
or  by  any  general  failure,  like  that  of  the  seventh 
century. 

The  sixth  century  is  well  represented  by  the  writers 
who  lived  in  it.     None  of  its  ideas  or  moods  are  left 

The  sixth     uurccorded,  except  perhaps  the  barbarian 

century,  j^gas  that  havc  come  down  to  us  rather 
scantily  clad  in  the  decent  raiment  of  literature.  Even 
these,  however,  can  be  discovered,  and  putting  these 
aside,  there  is  no  want  of  variety  and  fulness  in  the 
provision  of  books  of  different  kinds.     Almost  every- 


LATIN   AUTHORS.  101 

thing  that  is  common  to  the  Middle  Ages,  and  much 
that  lasts  beyond  ihe  Eenaissance,  is  to  be  found  in 
the  authors  of  the  sixth  century.  Boethius  is  the  in- 
terpreter of  the  ancient  world  and  its  wisdom,  accepted 
by  all  the  tribes  of  Europe  from  one  age  to  another,  and 
never  disqualitied  in  his  office  of  teacher  even  by  the 
most  subtle  and  elaborate  theories  of  the  later  schools. 
His  authority  is  not  impaired  either  by  Erigena  or 
by  St  Thomas  Aquinas,  and  his  influence  goes  beyond 
the  schools  to  touch  the  minds  of  visionary  poets; 
it  is  felt  in  the  Romaunt  of  the  Rose  and  in  the  Vita 
Nuova.  Cassiodorus  is  wanting  in  the  graces  of 
Boethius,  and  he  is  much  sooner  forgotten ;  but  his 
enormous  industry,  his  organisation  of  literary  pro- 
duction, his  educational  zeal,  have  all  left  their  effects 
indelibly  in  modern  civilisation.  By  his  definition 
of  the  seven  Liberal  Arts,  and  by  his  examples  of 
method  in  teaching  them,  he  is  the  spiritual  author 
of  the  Universities,  the  patron  of  all  the  available 
learning  in  the  world.  His  own  remarkable  taste  in 
decorated  composition  is  also  part  of  the  age,  signifi 
cant  not  of  anything  precisely  new  in  style,  but  of 
the  increasing  strength  of  that  kind  of  rhetoric.  The 
poet  Venantius  Fortunatus  of  Poitiers  represents  the 
old  classical  schools  in  their  decline :  following 
Ausonius,  Claudian,  and  Sidonius  in  complimentary 
and  conventional  verse,  with  a  growing  tendency  to 
use  barbarous  and  senseless  ornament,  and  also  a 
gift  of  occasional  sincerity,  and  another  of  a  very 
different  kind  in  virtue  of  which  he  escapes  altogether 
from   the  routine  of  the  old  poetical  grammar  into 


102        EUKOPEAN   LITEllATUllE — THE   DAKK   AGES. 

a  new  region  of  poetry.  Vcxilla  Bcr/is  prodeunt  and 
Pange  lingua  gloriosi  are  hymns  of  Fortunatus,  to 
be  honoured  among  the  ancestors  of  modern  verse. 
His  friend  Gregory  of  Tours  is  one  of  the  first 
medigeval  chroniclers,  ill  provided  with  a  language, 
and  compelled  to  use  a  common  kind  of  Latin,  like 
many  other  good  historians  later,  for  want  of  a  sound 
vernacular;  yet  in  spite  of  these  hindrances  proving 
himself  by  his  quickness  and  his  love  of  stories  to  be 
of  the  same  spirit  with  Joinville  or  Froissart.  There 
are  other  historians  in  that  century,  such  as  Jordanes 
among  the  Goths  and  Gildas  in  Britain,  but  Gregory 
of  Tours  has  more  than  they  of  the  interests  and  the 
manners  that  were  to  prevail  in  the  Middle  Ages. 

In  literary  history,  the  close  of  the  sixth  century 
may  be  said  to  belong  to  St  Gregory  the  Great,  in  the 
same  way  as  the  beginning  of  it  is  ruled  by  Boethius. 
It  is  a  different  world ;  except  through  the  report  of 
Boethius  there  is  no  way  back  into  the  quiet  resting- 
places  of  the  old  Greek  philosophy ;  worldly  scholar- 
ship is  discouraged ;  in  its  place  there  are  the  lives 
of  hermits,  the  allegorical  method  of  interpreting 
Scripture,  and  the  voice  of  a  stern  schoolmaster 
preaching  duty,  like  one  who  understands  what  it 
means  and  is  not  concerned  to  make  it  easier.  It  is 
a  serious  change;  yet  the  greatness  of  St  Gregory, 
even  in  the  fields  of  literature  which  he  despised,  is 
hardly  less  certain  than  the  importance  of  his  studies 
and  his  teaching  for  subsequent  times.  To  command 
is  easy  with  him,  and  with  all  his  scorn  for  rhetoric 
he  makes  his  language  obey  his  will.     Without  philos- 


LATIN   AUTHORS.  103 

ophy,  without  science,  with  no  imagination,  he  leaves 
in  his  writings  the  impression  of  vast  intellectual 
power — a  great  engine  groaning,  thundering,  shaking 
its  own  framework — and  he  was  accepted  by  Christen- 
dom as  a  teacher.  His  spirit  was  transfused  into 
countless  homilies  and  became  part  of  the  common- 
sense  of  the  world  in  religious  matters :  his  exposi- 
tions of  Scripture  did  more  than  anything  to  establish 
the  allegorical  mode  of  interpretation  for  a  thousand 
years. 

The  Consolation  of  Philosophy  has  a  rank  in  mediaeval 

literature  such  as  few  books  in  any  age  have  possessed. 

It  belongs  to  the  secondary  order,  the  books 

Boethius. 

that  have  something  less  than  original 
genius  of  invention,  the  books  that  are  dependent  on 
others,  that  are  reflective,  not  imaginative  nor  creative, 
that  are  informed  by  the  softer  conciliatory  graces  of 
the  minds  for  whom  obedience,  appreciation,  interpre- 
tation, are  the  appointed  tasks,  ratlier  than  any  original 
work  in  poetry  or  philosophy.  It  is  what  Blake  might 
have  called  an  "  angelic  "  work,  in  the  sense  the  word 
bears  in  his  Marriage  q/  Heaven  and  Hell.  One  is 
naturally  led  to  think  of  that  Marriage,  that  rivalry 
of  the  two  great  forces  of  Will  and  of  Law,  in  think- 
ing of  the  contrast  between  the  Barbarian  and  the 
Latin  elements  in  the  Dark  Ages,  and  it  is  hardly 
possible  to  mistake  the  character  of  Boethius  in  that 
part  of  history,  as  before  and  above  all  other  writers 
the  preacher  of  Obedience  in  its  most  ideal  form ;  the 
apostle  of  a  worship  in  which  there  is  nothing  local 


104        EUROPEAN   LITERATURE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

or  provincial,  the  servant  of  the  Universe  and  of  the 
Light  that  kindles  it,  of  ''the  Love  that  moves  the 
Sun  and  the  other  stars."  There  is  no  one  to  be  com- 
pared with  his  influence.  It  runs  all  through  the 
Middle  Ages,  distinct  from  that  of  all  the  Doctors  of 
the  Church,  though  acknowledged  and  honoured  by 
them ;  a  strain  of  philosophy  that  would  not  strive 
nor  cry,  a  gentle  ghost  whose  presence  is  recognised 
in  its  effect  on  many  minds,  persuading  them  to  think 
wisely  about  the  old  commonplaces  of  Death  and 
Time.  It  is  a  spirit  of  freedom  and  of  courage,  unlike 
the  freedom  and  courage  of  the  Northern  fighting 
temper,  and  not  wholly  Christian  either,  not  Christian 
at  all  in  any  confessed  or  open  manner ;  but  as  in- 
domitable in  its  own  way  as  the  Northern  gods, 
and  as  quiet  as  the  first  of  the  Christian  martyrs. 
Boethius  in  his  prison  meditations  has  repeated 
the  lessons  and  the  temper  of  the  Phcedo  and  the 
Apology,  and  his  great  work  was  to  give  to  the 
Western  world  a  sermon  that  answered  the  ques- 
tions of  Christendom  in  the  spirit  of  Plato.  Being 
admirably  clear,  and  almost  as  free  from  technical 
philosophy  as  from  theological  dogma,  the  Consolation 
was  accepted  everywhere  on  its  own  merits.  It  was 
not  Christian  enough  to  be  heretical,  and  it  had  not 
the  pretensions  of  the  philosophical  sects :  it  aroused 
no  jealousies  in  the  Schools. 

Boethius  was  fortunate  in  the  time  of  his  life  and 
death,  and  in  the  choice  of  his  theme.  No  other 
writer  commands  so  much  of  the  past  and  future. 
Between   the  worlds   of  ancient   Greece   and   modern 


LATIN   AUTHORS.  105 

Europe,  he    understands   not  merely  their  points  of 
contact,  the  immediate  and  contemporary 
m^onsoa-  ^^^^^^^.j   ^^   Germany  and   Eome;    he   re- 
Philosophy,    ^g^^bgrs  the  early  thoughts  of  Greece,  long 
before  the  Stoic  and  Epicurean  professors  whom  he 
disliked,  and  he  finds  the  response  to  his  signals  not 
in  the  near  future  only   but   far  off  in  the  distant 
centuries:    it  is   commonplace,   no   doubt,   but   of  a 
sort   that  finds   its   way   into   some   of    the   noblest 
passages  in  literature.     Boethius  is  remembered  and 
his  words  are  quoted  by  Dante  in  the  meeting  with 
Erancesca,   and   again   in   the   concluding   phrase   of 
the  Paradiso ;  it  is  a  small  thing  in  comparison  with 
this   honour   that  Dante   should   have    modelled    his 
Convito,  a  philosophical  treatise,  on  the   Consolation 
of  FhilosopMj.      Boethius  has  been  traced  in  English 
literature  from  Beowulf  to  Hamlet  and  Lycidas.     "  The 
last  infirmity  of  noble  mind  "  is  a  quotation,  and  Ham- 
let is  thought  to  have  had  in  his  tablets,  somewhere, 
Adeo  nihil  est  misemm  nisi  cum  piUes.     The  list  of 
translators,  including  King  Alfred,  Notker  the  German, 
Jean  de  Meun,  Chaucer,  and  Queen  Elizabeth,  with 
many  more,  gives  no  complete  account  of  his  influence, 
though  it  proves  sufficiently  that  Boethius  was  secure 
against  all  changes  of  taste.     Perhaps  if  one  were  to 
choose  any  single  piece  of  evidence  to  show  what  his 
reputation  was,  it  would  be  a  passage  quoted  from 
the  letters  of  Ser  Lapo  Mazzei,  a  Florentine  notary 
of  the  end  of  the  fourteenth  century :  Ser  Lapo  speaks 
of  the  Consolation  as  a  work  of  "  highest  philosophy," 
though  "to-day  simple  people  hold  it  cheap,  because 


106        EUEOPEAN   LITEKATUEE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

it  is  a  common  book  for  the  youngest  pupils  in  our 
schools."  ^  The  reason  of  his  popularity  and  the  dis- 
tinguishing quality  of  his  work  is  that  he  saw  what 
was  essential  and  rejected  what  was  technical  and 
accidental,  in  this  his  latest  book.  In  his  other 
writings  he  had  laboured  in  another  way,  as  his 
old  biographers  tell.^ 

The  works  of  Boethius  in  Logic,  Music,  and  the  other 
arts  belong  to  the  common  educational  business  of  the 
time.  The  dissertation  De  Sanda  Trinitate,  not  to 
speak  of  the  other  theological  writings  attributed  to 
Boethius,  is  equally  professional.  But  the  Consolation 
of  Philosophy,  written  in  the  prison  at  Pavia,  is  free 
from  all  the  restrictions  of  system  and  school  methods. 
Its  want  of  Christianity  has  perplexed  the  more  recent 

1  «  Oggi  da'  semplici  accetto  per  vile  perche  si  legge  a  corso  in  ogni 
scuolaai  piu  giovani"  (A.  D'Ancona,  Varieta  storiche  e  letterarie,  serie 
seconda,  p.  202).  Mazzei  read  the  Gospels,  the  Epistles  of  St  Paul  and 
St  Jerome,  and  "el  bel  libretto  di  frate  Jacopo  da  Todi."  What  use 
he  made  of  his  Boethius  and  other  moral  teachers  may  be  seen  in  the 
following  sentence,  too.  good  to  be  left  out,  against  the  temptation  of 
playing  at  Providence  :  "Compare,  non  vogliate  voi  esser  quegli  che 
voglia  racconciare  il  mondo  ;  ma  lasciate  audare  il  mondo  come  Dio 
I'ordino,  e  cio  e  che  la  ruota  volgesse  sempre;  e  attendete  a  governare 
voi,  e  le  cose  che  Dio  v'ha  prestate.  La  cosa  va  pur  cosi  ;  andate 
colla  voga. " 

^  Mullos  liln-os  de  grseco  in  latinum  traustulit.  Fecit  commentum 
super  ysagogas  .i.  introductiones  Aristotelis.  Edidit  et  aliud  super 
Porphyrii  periermenias  .i.  interpretationes  quod  divisit  in  duo  volu- 
mina.  Quorum  alterum  analitica  .i.  resolutoria  appellavit  ubi  ouines 
syllogismi  rethoi-icoe  artis  resolvuntur.  Composuit  musicam  quam 
transtulit  de  Pitlmgora  et  Ptolomeo  grrccis  nee  non  etiam  arithuieti- 
cam  cujus  partes  surni)sit  de  Nicomacho.  Fecit  et  alios  libros 
perplures. 


LATIN   AUTHORS.  107 

commentators,  but  not  those  who  called  Boetliius 
their  master.  The  whole  plan  of  the  book  ex- 
cluded every! liing  that  was  formal,  and  the  disuse 
of  Christian  terms  is  hardly  more  surprising  than 
the  omission  of  Aristotle.  The  great  Aristotelian 
interpreter  was  not  here  engaged  in  strict  philo- 
sophical discussion. 

Boethius  in  the  Consolation  writes  as  if  he  had  fore- 
seen the  distress  that  was  to  come  from  technicalities 
The  Platonic  and  f  rom  the  "  vermiculate  questions  "  of 
tradition.  ^^^^  schoolmcu,  as  if  he  had  known  in  his 
own  mind  the  weariness  of  systematic  philosophy 
and  theology  which  was  to  be  felt  so  keenly  and 
expressed  so  strongly  by  More  and  Erasmus.  He 
is  led  instinctively,  while  waiting  for  the  summons 
of  the  executioner,  to  look  for  the  point  of  view 
from  which  the  most  important  things  are  made 
manifest.  There  was  no  time  for  elaborate  work 
in  details.  His  purpose  was  to  explain  as  well  as 
he  could  in  short  space  the  philosophical  ideas  that 
were  of  greatest  moment  as  a  preparation  for  death. 
The  book  is  not  philosophy  but  consolation.  It  is 
popular,  it  is  meant  for  the  weaker  brethren.  The 
beauty  of  it,  which  lifts  it  far  above  the  ordinary  run 
of  reflections  on  mortality,  is  that  it  restores  a  Platonic 
tradition,  or  even  something  older  and  simpler  in 
Greek  philosophy,  at  a  time  when  simplicity  and 
clearness  of  thought  were  about  to  be  overwhelmed  in 
the  mediaeval  confusion.  Boethius  saved  the  thought 
Oi  the  Middle  Ages.     His  protection  was  always  to  be 


108        EUROPEAN   LITERATURE — THE   DARK    AGES. 

had  by  any  one  who  found  the  divisions  and  distinc- 
tions of  the  schools  too  much  for  him.  In  the  Con- 
solation oj  Philosophy  there  was  a  place  of  outlook 
from  which  the  less  valuable  matters  sank  back  to 
their  proper  place,  and  the  real  outlines  of  the  world 
were  brought  into  view. 

Boethius  went  back  to  Plato  because  he  required 
more  metaphysical  aid  for  his  moral  theory  than 
he  could  find  in  the  Nicomachean  Ethics,  and  much 
less  of  the  details  of  the  practical  life.  He  was 
not  concerned  with  ordinary  right  conduct;  he  was 
a  seeker  after  a  vision  by  which  the  moral  nature 
should  be  regenerate,  when  the  goodness  of  man 
should  be  shown  to  be  none  other  than  that  which 
maintains  the  universe,  and  preserves  the  stars  from 
wrong. 

The  end  of  man  is  to  see  that  there  is  nothing  in 
the  world  that  is  not  divine — nothing  absurd,  nothing 
unintelligible,  nothing  merely  natural.  Plato  had  said 
in  the  Timceus:  "There  are  two  kinds  of  causes,  the 
Divine  and  the  Necessary,  and  we  must  seek  for  the 
Divine  in  all  things,  and  the  Necessary  for  the  sake 
of  the  Divine."  The  "necessary"  here  means  what 
is  mechanical  or  natural — the  "  second  causes  "  of  later 
popular  philosophy.  This  is  the  doctrine  taken  up 
and  expounded  in  the  Consolation,  and  on  this  every- 
thing depends.  Faith  or  vision — it  matters  little  what 
it  is  called — is  with  Boethius  the  chief  end ;  from  that 
comes  all  the  rest ;  the  man  who  has  that  is  unassail- 
able. Morality  thus  depends  on  intelligence,  on  con- 
templation ;  the  deadliest  error  is  to  misinterpret  the 


LATIN   AUTHORS.  109 

world  by  means  of  second  causes,  corruptible  frag- 
mentary things : — 

"  For  nature  hath  nat  take  hir  beginning 
Of  no  partye  ne  cantel  of  a  thing 
But  of  a  thing  that  parfit  is  and  stable 
Descending  so  til  it  be  corrunipable."  ^ 

Chaucer  has  here  put  into  verse  the  central  doc- 
trine of  Boethius,  which  in  prose  runs  thus: — 

"For  the  nature  of  thinges  ne  took  nat  hir  beginninge  of 
thinges  amenused  and  inpartit,  but  it  procedeth  of  thinges  that 
ben  al  hoole  and  absolut."  ^ 

The  fragmentary  life  of  this  world  is  a  fragment  of 
what  is  "  whole  and  absolute  " ;  that  which  is  perfect 
gives  the  meaning  of  that  which  is  fragmentary.  The 
beginning  of  wisdom  is  to  be  discontented  with  second 
causes,  to  look  for  the  vantage-ground  from  which 
they  shall  be  seen  in  their  due  relations.  Man  has 
not  fulfilled  his  course  until  he  is  taken  up  into  the 
mind  of  God,  until  in  his  theoretic  knowledge  he  sees 
with  the  clear  vision  of  one  to  whom  nothing  is  alien, 
and  in  his  practical  life  has  blended  his  separate  being 
with  tlie  movement  of  the  whole  world  : — 

"  In  this  one  thing  all  the  discipline 
Of  manners  and  of  manhood  is  contain'd, 
A  man  to  join  himself  with  the  Universe 
In  his  main  sway,  and  make,  in  all  things  fit, 
One  with  that  All,  and  go  on,  round  as  it."^ 


^  Knight's  Tale,  1.  2149  sqq.  ^  ^^^ns.  Phil.,  iii.  10. 

^  G.  Chapman,  Bussy  D'Avihois,  his  Revenge. 


110        EUROPEAN   LITERATURE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

How  little  satisfactory  this  kind  of  doctrine  often 
is  to  the  professed  philosopher  may  be  readily  under- 
stood ;  how  easily  it  may  be  misapplied  by  the  pro- 
fessional moralist  is  likewise  obvious.  But  the  happy 
fortune  of  Boetliius  was  that  his  teaching  was  taken 
up  by  the  poets.  The  Divine  Comedy  might  be  con- 
sidered as  an  imaginative  fugue  on  a  philosophical 
theme  from  Boethius.  It  was  also  taken  by  the  phil- 
osophers themselves  in  the  right  way.  There  can  be 
little  question  that  Boethius,  more  than  any  other 
philosophic  author,  helped  the  great  Schoolmen  to 
retain  a  general  comprehensive  view  of  the  world  as 
a  whole,  in  spite  of  the  distractions  of  their  minute 
inquiries.  Spinoza  often  looks  as  if  he  were  follow- 
ing the  commonplaces  of  Boethius,  deepening  and  dis- 
tinguishing and  making  complex  what  seemed  easy 
and  plain,  yet  without  detriment  to  the  main  ideas 
of  Boethius. 

The  Consolation  is  reckoned  as  a  specimen  of  "  Var- 
ronian  Satire  "  by  the  authority  of  Casaubon,  and  the 
old  biographies  hold  that  Boethius  imitated  Martianus 
Capella.  These  opinions  need  not  be  disputed.  The 
composite  structure  of  prose  and  verse,  and  the  allegori- 
cal mode  of  presentment,  were  already  well  established 
when  Boethius  wrote.  The  vision  of  a  divine  inter- 
preter or  guide,  so  full  of  significance  for  the  later 
history  of  literature,  mny  be  carried  back  to  i\\Q  Dream 
of-  Scipio ;  the  allegory  is  found  in  Fulgentius  in  a 
form  even  nearer  to  the  common  mediaeval  device 
of   the   May   Morning   and   the   Dream.      But  it  is 


LATIN  AUTHOES.  Ill 

in  Boethiiis  above  the  rest  that  some  most  notable 
later  works  acknowledge  their  patron — especially  the 
Convito  of  Dante. 

Philosophy  appears  to  Boethius  in  the  prison  as  a 
lady  of  reverend  aspect  in  fine  raiment,  overshadowed, 
like  imai^es  that  have  stood  in  the  smoke, 
with  a  hue  of  antiquity — quarum  speciem, 
veluti  fumosas  imagines  solet,  caligo  qucedam  negledce 
vetustatis  obduxerat.  On  the  lower  hem  was  a  Greek 
n  (for  the  practical  life),  from  which  there  were 
ladders  rising  up  to  another  letter,  ©  (for  the 
theoretic) ,  and  it  was  seen  that  the  vesture  had 
been  rent  here  and  there;  violent  hands  had  torn 
tatters  from  it.  In  her  rioht  hand  were  books,  in 
her  left  a  sceptre.  Philosophy  drove  away  the  Muses 
whom  she  found  with  Boethius,  calling  them  Sirens 
and  scenicas  meretriculas.  There  are  some  things 
in  the  description  that  belong  to  the  more  grievous 
kind  of  allegory,  such  as  Philosophy's  varying  stature, 
which  at  times  appeared  to  rise  above  the  heaven. 
But  allegory  was  seldom  safe  from  this  kind  of  dis- 
regard for  the  pictorial  effect,  even  in  classical  authors, 
— as  with  the  tongues  and  ears  of  Eumour  in  Virgil. 
Most  signiticant  in  this  opening  scene  is  the  inter- 
pretation of  the  rent  clothes.  The  violence  came  from 
the  herd  of  Stoics  and  Epicureans — epicureum  mdgus 
ac  stoicum.  Considering  the  close  resemblance  to  the 
Stoics  and  their  morality  in  much  of  Boethius,  it  is 
significant  that  he  should  reject  them  here.  It  at- 
taches his  theory  all  the  more  definitely  to  that  of 


112        EUROPEAN   LITERATURE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

Plato,  who  is  claimed  by  Philosophy  as  noster  in  the 
preceding  sentence.  And  so  in  alternate  verse  and 
prose  the  book  goes  on.  It  is  something  of  a  shock 
to  come  in  the  fourth  chapter  on  names  of  adversaries 
like  Conigast  and  Triggvila.  They  look  like  anachron- 
isms, those  decent  Gothic  names  of  unscrupulous 
courtiers,  coming  in  a  text  the  matter  of  which  is 
generally  so  unlike  anything  Northern.  It  is  one  of 
Boethiusand  the  passagcs  of  liistory  in  which  the  moral 
Theodoric.  sccms  almost  too  obviously  and  epi gram- 
matically pointed,  when  Boethius,  who  more  than 
any  other  man  represents  and  sums  up  the  popular 
philosophy  which  the  Middle  Ages  derived  from 
Greece,  appears  as  the  servant  of  Theodoric,  who 
is  no  less  eminent  on  the  Northern  side  as  a  hero 
of  epic  tradition.  The  Convito  of  Dante  belongs  in 
a  sense  to  the  one,  the  Nihdungen  Lied  to  the  other. 
The  Gothic  names  in  the  Consolation  are  a  pertinent 
reminder  of  the  German  world  and  its  occupations. 
That  world  had  a  morality  of  its  own  quite  different 
from  that  of  Boethius,  except  that  both  were  noble. 
The  Hdvamdl  in  the  Northern  poetry  is  a  complement 
and  opposite  to  the  Consolation  of  Philosophy. 

The  matter  of  the  Consolation  belongs  to  philosophy 
rather  than  to  literature,  but  some  passages  may  be 
referred  to  more  particularly  for  their  intrinsic  value 
or  for  their  associations  •. — 

II.  c.  4  :  "  Nam  in  omni  adversitate  fortunoB  infelicissimiim 
est  genus  infortunii  fuisse  felicem." 

II.  c.  7  :  "  Et  ilia  :  Atqui  hoc  nnum  est  quod  pra}stantes 
quidem    natura    mentes   sed    nondum   ad   extreniam    nianimi 


LATIN   AUTHORS.  113 

virtiitum  perfectione  perductas  allicere  possit  glorige  et  opti- 
morum  in  rempuljlicam  fama  meritorum."  ^ 
c.  o  :  «  Q  £gjj^  hominum  genus 

Si  vestros  animos  amor 

Quo  caelum  regitur  regat. 

These  are  the  three  famous  commonplaces  on  Lost 
Happiness,  on  FamCy  and  on  the  Harmony  of  the 
Universe. 

Another,  which  is  an  essential  part  of  the  whole 
demonstration,  is  that  of  the  Patria,  the  proper  home 
of  the  soul,  the  leading  thought  of  Dante's  pilgrimage, 
and  of  so  much  more  in  the  devotion  of  saints  and 
confessors,  and  of  many  broken  men  as  well : — 

"  Quorum  cmimus  etsi  caligante  memoria  tamen  bonum  simm 
repetit,  sed  veluti  ehrius  domum  quo  tramite  revertutur  ignorat." 
(III.  c.  2.) 

"  My  soul  with  too  much  stay 
Is  drunk  and  staggers  in  the  way." 

The  most  difficult  part  of  the  book  is  concerned 
with  Providence  and  Fate,  in  a  manner  that  brings 
out  fully  the  extraordinary  skill  of  Boethius  in  deal- 
ing with  the  severest  problems.  He  has  succeeded,  if 
not  in  explaining  the  main  questions,  at  least  in  giving 
adequate  expression  to  some  distinctions  by  the  way, 
from  which  it  is  possible  to  get  instruction.     If  he 

^  Cf.  Massinger,  A  Very  Woman,  v.  4 — 

"  Though  the  desire  of  fame  be  the  last  weakness 
Wise  men  put  off." 

Also  Sir  John  Van  Olden  Barnevelt,  i.  1 — 

"  Read  but  o'er  the  Stories 
Of  men  most  fam'd  for  courage  or  for  coiiiisaile, 
And  you  shall  find  that  the  desire  of  glory- 
Was  the  last  frjiilty  wise  men  ere  putt  of." 

a 


114        EUROrEAN   LITEKATURE— THE   DARK   AGES. 

does  not  solve  Fate  and  Free-v/ill,  he  at  any  rate 
gives  help  for  the  reading  of  Dante,  and  his  descrip- 
tion of  the  relations  between  Providence  and  Fate  is 
a  fine  example  of  solemn  meditation.  It  is  an  ex- 
pansion of  the  old  passage  from  the  Timmus,  about 
the  Divine  and  the  Necessary;  Fate  is  Providence 
looked  at  from  below.  Just  as  the  understanding  of 
man,  creeping  from  point  to  point,  breaks  into  a  long 
analytical  series  the  unity  of  Divine  reason,  so  the 
timeless  Providence  when  it  is  translated  into  Time 
becomes  the  succession  of  events  that  seem  to  be 
bound  together  by  the  necessity  of  Fate,  though  they 
are  beheld  otlievwise  when  looked  upon  ex  alta  provi- 
dentioe  specula : — 

"Uti  est  ad  intellectum  ratiocinatio,  ad  id  quod  est  id  quod 
gignitiir,  ad  reternitatem  tempus,  ad  punctum  medium  circulns  : 
ita  est  fati  series  mol)i]is  ad  providentise  stabilem  secnritatem" 
(IV.  c.  6). 

Time  is  the  image  of  Eternity  (V.  c.  6),  and  the 
endless  series  of  events  in  Time  is  a  reduction  of 
what  is  Absolute  to  a  lower  grade,  an  attempt  to 
exhaust  the  infinite  riches  of  a  life  for  which  no 
time  is  sufficient  With  the  expression  of  ideas  like 
these  it  is  possible  to  find  fault.  They  are  made  too 
simple.  But  the  task  of  Boetluus  here  is  philosophical 
consolation,  not  pure  philosophy. 

Naturally  the  philosophers  are  unwilling  to  see 
these  mysteries  m.ade  over  to  the  uses  of  the  moral 
preacher.  But  the  other  side  must  always  be  kept 
in  mind.  The  disciples  of  Boetliius  have  justified  him. 
In  that  age,  and  for  ages  after,  the  most  important 


LATIN  AUTHORS.  115 

and  essential  thing  was  to  get  some  simple  com- 
prehensive theory  of  the  whole  worhl,  whether  scien- 
tific or  merely  literary.  There  was  no  want  of  scien- 
tific elaboration  later.  The  magnificent  generalisations 
of  Boethius,  coming  as  most  of  them  do  from  Plato, 
have  in  the  confusion  of  the  Middle  Ages  the  effect 
of  sometliing  still  older  than  Plato :  a  revival  of  the 
great  utterances  of  the  early  Greek  philosophers,  those 
who  looked  to  the  whole  heaven,  and  were  possessed 
with  the  Unity  of  it,  and  found  that  enough  for  a 
lifetime.  In  the  decline  of  Greek  speculation,  almost 
at  its  last  word,  Boethius  is  often  nearer  to  Parmenides 
or  Empedocles,  in  his  frame  of  mind  if  not  in  his 
doctrines,  than  to  any  of  the  later  sects. 

The  verse  of  the  Coiisolation  is  that  of  a  prosodist — 
somewhat  too  deliberate  in  the  choice  and  combination 
of  metres,  not  always  quite  successful,  it  may  be 
thought.  But  the  Middle  Ages  approved  and  imi- 
tated them,  as  they  imitated  also  those  of  Martianus 
Capella ;  and  the  poems  have  excellences  such  as 
make  the  expulsion  of  the  poetical  Muses  at  the 
beginning  appear  not  only  cruel  but  ungrateful.  Not 
infrequently  the  movement  is  like  tliat  of  a  sonnet, 
especially  an  Elizabethan  sonnet  made  up  of  examples, 
and  a  concluding  moral.  Such  is  the  poem  of  the 
second  book,  c.  3,  written  in  a  system  of  alternate 
sapphic  and  giyconean  verses. 

"Cum  polo  Phoebus  roseis  quadiigia 
Liicem  spargere  ccEperit, 
Pallet  albentes  hebetata  vultu3 
Flainniis  stelia  prementibus. 


116        EUROPEAN    LITERATURE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

Cum  nemus  flatu  zephyri  tepentis 

Vernis  inrubuit  rosis 
Spiret  insaniim  nebiilosus  aiTster 

Jam  spinis  abeat  decus. 
Ssepe  tranquiilo  radiat  sereno 

Immotis  mare  fluctibus 
Soepe  ferventes  aqiiilo  procellas 

Verso  concitat  cequore. 
Eara  si  constat  sua  forma  mundo, 

Si  tantas  variat  vices, 
Crede  fortunis  hominum  caducis, 

Bonis  crede  I'ugacibus. 
Constat  seterna  positumque  lege  est, 

Ut  constet  genitum  nihil." 

The  poem  on  the  Former  Age  (II.  c.  5)  is  an  ex- 
ample in  verse  of  Boethins's  skill  in  reviving  common- 
place themes ;  it  is  the  original  of  Chaucer's  poem  on 
the  same  subject.  Its  conceit  of  pretiosa  pericula  for 
"gems"  comes  in  with  a  very  modern  sort  of  grace. 
The  famous  phrase,  Ubi  nunc  fidelis  ossa  Fahricii 
manent,  turned  so  happily  by  King  Alfred  ("Where 
are  the  bones  of  Weland  ? "),  is  the  source  of  many 
rhymes  on  the  perished  valour  and  vanished  beauty, 
— an  old  burden. 

The  solemn  prayer  of  Book  III.  c.  9  is  in  hexameter 
verse,  rightly  chosen  here,  and  chosen  perhaps  with  a 
recollection  of  its  use  by  Parmenides  and  Empedocles — 

"  Da  pater  augustam  menti  conscendere  sedem 
Da  fontem  lustrare  boni  da  luce  reperta 
In  te  conspicuos  animi  defigere  visus : 
Dissice  terrense  nebulas  et  pondera  molis 
Atque  tuo  splendors  mica  :  tu  namque  sereniini 
Tu  requies  tranquilla  piis,  te  cernere  finis 
Principiiim  vector  dux  semita  terminus  idem." 


LATIN   AUTHOKS.  117 

There  is  no  author  in  this  period,  and  few  in  any  part 
of  history,  with  so  many  advocates,  pupils,  and  imita- 
tors ;  the  reason  being  that  he  somehow  or  other  felt 
what  was  most  wanted  in  the  intellectual  confusion  in 
which  he  lived.  He  is  still  an  auspicious  name,  not 
merely  on  account  of  the  honour  that  has  been  paid 
him,  but  because  of  the  sincere  and  quiet  light  that  he 
gives,  with  his  fidelity  to  Plato  and  his  observance  of  an 
old  Greek  fashion  of  thought,  in  times  when  clearness 
and  simplicity  were  more  and  more  difficult  every  day. 

Cassiodoriis  (c.  480 — 575),  who  survived  Boethius 

fifty  years,  is  of  no  less  importance  as  a  teacher  of 

the   later   ages,   though   in   a  wholly  dif- 

Cassiodorus.  o      '  o  j 

ferent  way.  Boethius  may  still  be  read, 
as  Dante  or  Chaucer  read  him,  for  doctrine  and 
counsel  Cassiodorus  is  a  founder  of  educational 
methods,  a  purveyor  of  learning,  a  historian;  but 
his  present  literary  value  consists  in  nothing  more 
than  the  curiosity  of  his  overladen  style,  which  is 
equally  inexhaustible  and  monotonous.  As  Quaestor 
under  Theodoric  he  wrote  official  letters  in  the  most 
pompous  language  to  the  king's  correspondents ;  these 
were  published  by  Cassiodorus  under  the  title 
Varice'^  some  twelve  years  after  Theodoric's  death. 
His  method  may  be  exemplified  from  the  letter  in 
which  Theodoric  desires  Boethius  to  find  a  harper 
for  Luduin  (that  is,  Clovis)  king  of  the  Franks. 
Page  after  page  is  filled  with  sentences  on  the  music 
of   the   spheres,   the   moral  efficacy  of   the   different 

^  Ed.  Mommseu,  in  Mon.  Germ.  Hist.,  1894. 


118        EUROPEAN    LITEKATUEE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

tones  (perverted  by  the  corruption  of  the  world  to 
dancing),  the  nature  of  diayason  ;  Orpheus,  Amphion, 
Musaeus  ;  rhythm,  metre,  oratory  ;  the  different  func- 
tions of  heroic  and  iambic  verse ;  the  Sirens ;  David ; 
the  heavenly  psaltery  ;  the  music  of  the  blessed  in 
heaven.  Concluding  with  a  return  from  this  digres- 
sion, the  letter  hopes  that  the  harper  when  found  and 
despatched  to  the  Frankish  king  will  contrive,  like 
Orpheus,  to  tame  the  fierce  hearts  of  the  nations. 

Shortly  before  the  taking  of  Eavenna  by  Belisarius, 
Cassiodorus  retired  to  Squillace,  his  birthplace,  where 
he  founded  a  monastery  and  set  an  example  of  learned 
industry  and  care  for  books,  the  efifect  of  wliich  was 
incalculable.  In  his  Institutions  of  Divine  and 
Human  Study  he  included  all  knowledge :  the  second 
part  (the  Humanities)  established  the  Trivium  and 
Quadrivium  for  all  future  schools.  And  there  were 
many  other  works  of  different  kinds  besides.  The 
Gothic  History,  abridged  by  Jordanes,  was  written 
before  his  retirement.  He  was  a  man  of  some  char- 
acter, a  fit  representative,  in  the  sixth  century,  of 
the  liberal  arts,  genuinely  fond  of  knowledge,  and  of 
good  writing,  as  he  understood  it.  His  historical 
importance  has  been  well  brought  out  by  the  historian 
of  Italy  and  her  Invaders}  A  sentence  or  two  from 
the  letter  to  Boethius  will  prove  what  has  been  said 
about  his  style.     On  the  lute  and  its  virtue  : — 

Nam  licet  hnjns  delectationis  organa  multa  luerint  exqiiisita, 
nihil  tamen  efficacins  inventum  est  ad  permovendos  animos 


See  especially  Epistles  of  Cassiodorus,  translated  by  T.  Hodgkin. 


LATIN   AUTHORS,  119 

qnam  concavse  citliarse  blanda  resultatio.  Hinc  etiam  appel- 
latara  sestii)iamus  chordam,  quod  facile  corda  moveat :  ubi 
tanta  vocuni  collecta  est  sub  diversitate  concordia,  ut  vicina 
chorda  pulsata  alteram  faciat  sponte  coutreniiscere,  quam  nullam 
contigit  attigisse. 

The  foundation   at   Squillace   was   nearly  contem- 
porary  with   St   Benedict's   at   Monte    Cassino;    the 
character  was  not   the   same.      The  great 

St  Benedict,      -r»  t      .         i  ■,       ■, 

Benedictine  house  had  not  at  nrst  the  love 
of  learning  which  later  became  inseparable  from  the 
order.  St  Benedict  had  small  regard  for  grammar  or 
rhetoric,  and  the  Latin  of  the  Benedictine  Bule  has 
no  pretence  to  beauty,  nor  even  to  correctness.  St 
Gregory,  himself  a  Benedictine  monk,  does  not  go 
beyond  the  principles  of  the  Founder  in  his  contempt 
for  Donatus.  Cassiodorus  is  on  the  other  side,  and 
though  much  of  his  eloquence  may  be  futile,  he  at 
least  helped  to  preserve  the  tradition  of  the  humanities 
in  a  time  when  they  were  threatened. 

The  poetry  of  Yenantius  Fortunatus^  is  contained 
venantius     ^^  elcveu  miscellaueous  books  (interspersed 
Fortunatus.    ^ftli  prosc)  and  in  four  books  of  a  longer 
poem  on  the  life  of  St  Martin, 

The  dedication  of  his  poems  to  Pope  Gregory  the 
Great  (in  a  prose  epistle)  looks  as  inopportune  in 
style  as  it  well  could  be,  if  its  rhetorical  blazes  are 
contrasted  with  St  Gregory's  repeated  disapproval  of 
these  vanities.     It  is  as  unfortunate,  one  would  think, 

^  Venanti  Honori  Clementiani  Fortunati  'prcshyteri  Italici  Opera 
Poetica,  ed.  Leo,  Pedestria,  ed.  Krusch,  1881  {Mon.  Germ.  Hist.,  iv. ) 
Cf.  W.  Meyer,  Der  Gelegenheitsdichter  Venaidius  ForlunatuSy  1901. 


120        EUROPEAN   LITERATURE — THE   DAllK   AGES, 

as  Malvolio's  cross-garterings.  But  Fortunatus,  though 
he  could  write  panegyrics  on  Chilperic  and  Eadegund, 
not  to  speak  of  Bruneliild,  could  not  dissemble  his 
sincere  affection  for  fine  language,  and  in  his  case, 
as  in  some  others  in  the  Middle  Ages,  the  wonderful 
words  are  often  the  true  expression  of  the  man's 
nature — not  merely  something  learned,  but  the  proper 
utterance  of  a  lively,  showy  mind.  There  is  humour 
in  Fortunatus  which  gives  the  torrent  of  epithets 
sometimes  a  touch  of  comedy.  This  comes  out  in 
his  prose  dedication  in  his  satire  on  the  manners 
of  Germany, 

"Ubi  inihi  tantnnclem  valebat  ran.ciim  gemere  quod  cantare 
apud  quos  nihil  disparat  aut  stiidor  anseris  aut  canor  oloris, 
sola  saepe  bombicans  barbaros  leudos  arpa  relidens  :  iit  inter 
illos  egomet  non  niusicus  poeta  sed  muricus  deroso  flore 
carminis  poema  non  canerem  sed  garrirem,  quo  residentes 
auditores  inter  acernea  pocula  salute  bibentes  insana  Baccho 
judice  debaccharent." 

The  taste  of  Fortunatus  is  unrestrained,  but  it  is 
redeemed  by  his  gusto,  to  use  the  sensible  old  term 
of  criticism  that  recognises  how  much  life  may  do, 
rules  or  no  rules,  for  a  work  of  art.  Artificiality, 
brazen  rhetoric,  all  the  faults  of  "  a  swollen  and  puffy 
style,"  are  exemplified  in  Fortunatus,  but  they  lose 
their  offence,  or  great  part  of  it,  because  the  author's 
delight  is  so  sincere  and  innocent — as  when  he  praises 
another  poet  for  the  things  he  himself  admired 
most  in  his  own  writings  (III.  18  to  Bishop  Berte- 
chramn) : — 


LATIN   AUTHORS.  121 

"Ardua  suscepi  missis  epigrammata  chartis 

atque  cothiirnato  verba  rotata  sofo. 
Percurrens  tumido  spumantia  carmina  versu 

credidi  in  iindoso  me  dare  vela  freto  : 
Plana  procellosos  ructavit  pagina  fluctus, 

et  velut  Ocean  as  fonte  refudit  aquas. 
Vix  modo  tam  nitido  pomposa  poemata  cnltii 

audit  Traiano  Roma  verenda  foro." 

It  is  impossible  to  be  seriously  offended  with  so 
simple-minded  an  enjoyment  of  declamation,  and 
Fortunatus  escapes  by  the  same  licence  as  some  of 
the  poets  whom  Ancient  Pistol  admired,  and  some  of 
a  later  time.  It  may  be  remarked  that  Fortunatus 
is  seldom  affected  or  artificial  in  thought ;  his  conceits 
are  not  of  the  hyperbolical  metaphorical  kind,  but  for 
the  most  part  "turns  upon  words,"  such  as  were  in 
favour  in  Greek  rhetoric,  and  afterwards  in  the  style 
of  £Juj)hucs. 

"  Pictavis  residens  qua  sanctus  Hilarius  olim 
Natus  in  urbe  fuit  notus  in  orbe  pater." 

He  is  exceedingly  fond  of  the  epithets  coruscant 
and  sidereal ;  these  are  characteristic : — 

"Lucida  sidereo  coeli  strepit  aula  tumultu 
Laudibus  et  Domini  concutit  astra  fragor." 

"  Aurea  tecta  micant,  plebs  aurea  fulget  in  aula 
Et  cum  rege  pio  turba  corusca  nitet." 

The  same  favourite  words  appear  together  in  the 
prose  preface  of  his  Third  Book,  to  Bishop  Felix  of 
Nantes : — 

"Igitur  cum  considerarem  dicta  singula  de  more  tubarum 
clangeute  sermone  prolata  et  sidereo  quodanimodo  spleudore 


122        EUROPEAN   LITERATURE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

perfusa,  velut  coruscantium  radioriim  perspicabili  lumine  mea 
visi  estis  lumina  perstrinxisse,  et  soporantes  oculos  quos  mihi 
apcriiistis  tonitruo  clausistis  coriisco." 

FortuDatus  writes  on  many  different  subjects.  His 
pompous  epitbalamium  (in  hexameters)  on  Sigebert 
and  Brunehild  is  interesting  on  account  of  its  poetical 
respect  for  Cupid  and  Venus,  who  speak  the  praises 
of  the  king  and  queen  in  a  maimer  more  classical,  or 
more  like  the  fasbion  of  the  Eenaissance,  than  was 
common  in  the  Dark  Ages.  Tbeodulfus,  for  example, 
in  the  time  of  Charlemagne,  refers  to  Cupid  as  the 
demon  of  adultery — 

"  Est  sceleratus  enim  moecbise  demon  et  atrox" — 

and  uses  mythological  terms  with  caution,  but  Fortu- 
natus  can  do  without  the  allegorical  theory  which 
was  supposed  to  justify  Christian  poets  in  their  trans- 
actions with  Gentile  deities.  His  poem  on  the  Moselle 
is  much  inferior  to  Ausonius,  but  not  because  he  is 
indifferent  to  the  beauties  of  nature :  his  descriptive 
passages  are  not  all  mere  rhetoric.  There  are  some 
very  pleasant  light  poems  of  his  addressed  to  his 
friends,  gracefully  mock-heroic,  like  that  on  his  friend 
Gogo  (vii.  4).  What  is  Gogo  doing  ?  Is  he  watching 
the  salmon-nets  of  Ehine,  or  walking  by  the  Moselle, 
or  hunting  the  buffalo  in  the  Forest  of  Arden  ? 
Clouds  and  winds  be  messengers  between  Gogo  and 
his  Fortunatus.  Again  to  Lupus,  Duke  of  Champagne 
(vii.  8),  in  a  rather  more  serious  tone,  he  tells  how 
the  thought  of  his  noble  friend  is  refreshing  to  him, 
like  shade  and  cool  water  to  a  wayfaring  man  in  the 


LA.TIN    AUTHORS.  123 

summer  heat  wlien  be  rests,  and  remembers  the  , 
poetry  that  he  knows,  Homer  or  Virgil  or  David. 
Lupus  in  another  poem  is  praised  more  convention- 
ally for  his  military  exploits.  One  couplet  ("corus- 
cant"  again)  is  worth  quoting  as  a  sort  of  analogue 
in  a  different  style  to  the  phrnses  of  German  poetry 
where  the  iron  mail,  the  "grey  shirt,"  of  the  fighting 
man  is  alluded  to  : — 

"Ferratse  tunicse  sudasti  pondere  victor 
Et  sub  pulverea  nube  coruscus  eras." 

The  name  that  is  always  associated  with  Fortunatus 
and  his  poetry  is  that  of  St  Eadegund ;  the  poetical 
record  of  their  friendship  preserved  in  the  verses  of 
Fortunatus  is  not  the  largest  part  of  his  works,  nor 
perhaps  the  best,  but  it  always  keeps  a  value  of  its 
own,  associations  of  gentleness  and  grace,  not  without 
some  reflections  of  tragedy  from  the  sorrows  of  the 
royal  house  of  Eadegund's  birth,  and  the  cruelties  of 
the  time.  Generally,  there  is  little  in  Fortunatus  to  re- 
call the  facts  of  Frankish  history :  the  treacheries  and 
murders  written  about  by  Gregory  of  Tours  do  not 
interfere  with  his  humanities  and  civilities,  his  descrip- 
tions of  castles  and  basilicas,  his  compliments  and 
courtly  poems.  But  he  wrote  the  sorrows  of  Gal- 
suintha,  the  unhappy  Spanish  princess,  Brunehild's 
elder  sister,  the  wife  of  Chilperic,  the  victim  of  her 
husband  and  Fredegund.  Galsuintha,  passing  through 
Poitiers  on  her  sad  journey,  touched  the  heart  of 
Radegund,  herself  an  exiled  princess.  The  meeting  of 
the  two  ladies  is  described  by  Fortunatus,  and  though 


124        EUROPEAN    LITEKATUKE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

it  is  not  in  his  best  rhetorical  manner  it  is  perhaps 
the  central  passage  of  his  works.  At  any  rate,  it 
explains  the  influence  of  St  liadegund,  even  better 
than  the  elegy  written  by  Fortunatus,  in  her  name, 
on  tlie  ruin  of  the  Thuringian  power  and  the  sorrows 
of  her  line.  The  tragic  or  elegiac  note,  however,  is 
not  what  is  most  usual  with  Fortunatus.  The 
poems  addressed  to  Eadegund,  or  to  Kadegund  and 
Agnes,  for  her  spiritual  daugliter  is  not  to  be 
separated  from  her,  are  not  too  solemn.  The  themes 
are  not  far-fetched;  anything  is  enough  for  an  epistle 
in  verse  —  presents  of  flowers  or  fruit,  a  dinner,  a 
birthday. 

He  follows  an  old  line  of  tradition,  which  regarded 
Latin  verse  as  the  most  splendid  form  of  rhetoric,  and 
used  it  as  a  kind  of  ornamental  process,  to  treat  any 
kind  of  subject,  especially  these  that  came  within  the 
range  of  polite  religious  persons,  living  in  comfort 
without  much  anxiety  or  strong  ambition.  Venantius 
Fortunatus  is  a  repetition  of  Sidonius  Apollinaris,  with 
the  same  -temper  of  conformity,  the  same  elegant  piety; 
a  courtier  by  temperament,  with  an  ideal  of  good 
manners,  including  the  religion  of  a  gentleman  and 
the  accomplishments  of  fine  language.  The  type  is 
continued  as  from  Ausonius  and  Sidonius  to  Fortunatus, 
so  from  him  to  the  Caroline  poets.  The  equipment  of 
Theodulf  at  the  court  of  Charles  the  Great  is  very  like 
that  of  Fortunatus,  two  hundred  years  earlier;  and 
Alcuin,  apart  from  his  professional  industry  as  a 
teacher,  is  fond  of  writing  verse  in  the  same  manner 
about  the  same  order  of  themes. 


LATIN   AUTHORS.  125 

Gregory  of  Tours  (  +  594)  gives  much  less  attention 
to  grammar  than  his  namesake  and  contemporary  the 

Gregory      Pope.     His  Histovy  of  the  Franks'^  begins 

of  Tours,  ^ii^ii  a  complaint  of  tlie  decay  of  learning; 
but  the  failure  of  studies  ought  not,  he  thinks,  to  bring 
with  it  neglect  of  history.  What  he  desires  is  to  save 
the  memory  of  things  that  have  happened,  especially 
of  things  happening  in  his  own  time.  He  is  a  French 
author  of  Memoirs ;  his  interest  is  not  in  beauties  of 
language  but  in  persons  and  events ;  also  he  wishes  an 
audience,  and  an  audience  is  hard  to  find  for  the  pro- 
fessional and  practised  wielder  of  phrases.  "Philoso- 
phantem  rhetorem  intellegunt  pauci,  loquentem  rusti- 
cum  multi."  So  he  uses  in  his  history  the  ordinary 
easy  Latin,  without  rhetorical  figures.  He  could  have 
written  otherwise,  and  his  rough  Latin  is  not  the 
language  of  an  unscholarly  person ;  but  he  chose  the 
right  form  for  the  people  whom  he  addressed.  His 
copyists  could  not  spell,  and  Gregory's  style  was 
better  than  they  deserved. 

The  History  goes  down  to  the  year  591,  in  ten  books, 
the  author's  own  recollections  beginning  in  the  fourth. 
As  Bishop  of  Tours,  the  city  of  St  Martin,  Gregory 
was  chief  representative  and  advocate  of  the  Church 
in  France,  and  naturally  had  to  assert  its  claims 
against  tyrannical  usurpation.  His  Memoirs  are  those 
of  a  man  who  has  played  a  great  part  in  the  state. 

^  Grer/orii  Turoncnsis  Opera,  in  Monnraenta  German.  Hid.,  ed. 
Ai'ndt  and  Krusch.  Migne,  Poirol.  Lat.,  81.  One  of  the  oldest  MSS. 
of  the  History  has  been  printed  separately  by  M.  H.  Omont,  Paris, 
1886  (the  first  six  books)  another  (books  vii.-x.)  by  M.  Collon,  1893. 


126        EUROPEAN   LITERATURE — THE   DARK    AGES. 

At  the  same  time  he  has  the  sense  for  interesting 
things,  miracles  and  adventures,  which  is  sometimes 
wanting  in  historians ;  and  he  has  also,  if  not  imagina- 
tive strength,  at  any  rate  a  zest  and  liveliness  of  story- 
telling that  quickens  even  the  older  parts  of  his  work 
before  he  comes  to  draw  on  his  own  experiences.  He 
has  preserved  some  memorable  phrases, — the  "Mitis 
depone  colla,  Sicamber  "  of  St  Eemy  to  Clovis  ;  "  Wor- 
ship what  thou  hast  burnt,  burn  what  thou  hast 
adored";  and  the  dying  words  of  Clotaire,  surprised 
at  the  ways  of  heaven  in  dealijjg  with  great  persons, 
"  Wa !  quid  putatis  qualis  est  ille  rex  coelestis  qui  sic 
tarn  magnos  reges  interficit  ? "  He  is  one  of  the 
authors  who  can  sketch  things  easily:  the  gift  is  not 
uncommon  in  the  Dark  Ages.  Luckily  it  is  not 
greatly  dependent  on  grammar,  and  though  some 
languages  are  better  than  Gregory's  unpretending 
Latin  for  the  work  of  a  chronicler,  Gregory  succeeds 
with  his  poor  implements  where  many  great  clerks 
have  failed.  The  story  of  the  strayed  reveller  in  St 
Peter's  at  Eome,  waking  sober  at  midnight  and  finding 
himself  shut  in,  alone,  and  of  the  solemn  vision  that 
followed,  a  story  of  the  days  of  Atlila,  is  enough  in 
itself  to  prove  the  talent  of  Gregory, 

Gregory  of  Tours  was  a  friend  of  Venantius  Fortu- 
natus,  and  the  same  personages  often  appear  in  the 
history  of  the  one  and  the  complimentary  poems  of 
the  other.  Gregory  was  present  at  the  burial  of  St 
Radegund:  he  is  not  less  sincere  than  her  friend  the 
poet  in  his  admiration  for  her  piety.  But  he  gives 
more  space  to  the   unhappy  dissensions  in  the  con- 


LATIN   AUTIIOES.  127 

vent  of  the  Holy  Eood  after  the  death  of  the  king's 
daughter  who  founded  it :  describing  the  grievances  of 
other  king's  daughters,  one  of  them  Basina,  daughter 
of  Chilperic,  who  found  the  discipline  too  hard.  More 
than  forty  of  these  ladies  seceded  from  their  house 
and  appealed  to  Bishop  Gregory  for  protection.  They 
travelled  on  foot  from  Poitiers  to  Tours,  with  no  help 
on  the  way  :  it  was  at  the  end  of  December  and  the 
floods  were  out :  "  erant  enim  pluvise  magnse  sed  et 
viae  dissolutce  erant  e  nimia  immensitate  aquarum." 
The  bishop  treated  his  suppliants  with  equal  judg- 
ment and  sympathy,  but  could  not  prevail  upon  them 
to  submit  again  to  the  severities  of  their  abbess.  He 
naturally  has  much  to  say  of  the  rival  queens,  Frede- 
gund  and  Brunehild,  and  does  them  justice,  we  may 
suppose  ;  he  gives  pretty  full  particulars  regarding  the 
murder  of  the  Bishop  of  Eouen,  Fredegund's  work;  and 
in  his  account  of  that  lady's  attempt  to  suppress  her 
undutiful  daughter  by  slamming  the  lid  of  a  treasure- 
chest  on  her,  nothing  essential  is  omitted.  The 
matters  of  his  book  continually  recall  the  scenes  of 
later  vernacular  chronicles ;  the  brawls  of  the  chansons 
de  geste,  the  gibes  and  flytings  of  Beowulf  or  the 
Icelandic  tales,  the  enterprises  in  Troissart.  Gregory 
stands  as  near  as  Sturla  Thordarson  to  the  passions 
and  revenges  of  the  turbulent  great  men. 

In  Tours,  his  own  city,  there  were  things  done  that 
might  go  straight  into  a  ballad.  Sicharius  and 
Chramsind  (Eavenswyth),  citizens  of  Tours,  were 
enemies ;  Sicharius  had  killed  the  father,  brother,  and 
uncle  of  Chramsind;   however,  peace  was  made  be- 


128        EUllOrEAN   LITERATURE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

tween  them  with  the  mediation  of  Gregory,  and  they 
made  up  a  friendship  between  them  and  dined  with 
one  another.  One  day  Sicharius  in  the  other's  house 
got  drunk  and  insolent,  saying :  "  Great  thanks  thou 
owest  me,  fair  brother,  for  that  I  slew  thy  kin ;  the 
money  was  paid  in  recompense,  and  gold  and  silver 
poured  in ;  thou  wert  naught  but  a  starving  naked 
beggar  if  this  had  not  filled  thee."  The  other  took 
bitterly  the  words  of  Sicharius,  writes  the  Bishop. 
Chramsind  said  in  his  heart :  "  Unless  I  avenge  the 
death  of  my  kin,  I  ought  to  lose  the  name  of  man 
and  be  called  a  craven  woman."  And  forthwith,  the 
lights  put  out,  he  cleft  the  head  of  Sicharius  with  a 
hanger.  It  is  told  in  prose,  none  too  eloquent  nor 
imaginative  ;  the  actors  were  churls  in  grain.  Yet 
it  is  told  clearly  and  not  slurred  over,  and  the  plot 
is  that  of  a  strong  simple  drama.  These  prosaic  notes 
show,  like  the  Icelandic  sagas,  though  without  their 
glory,  how  near  the  problems  and  situations  of  the 
epic  poetry  might  come  to  the  familiar  life.  Through- 
out the  Latin  clironiclers  generally,  one  is  in  turn 
annoyed  at  the  neglect  of  incident  and  surprised  at 
the  vividness  of  it;  the  tedious  conventional  record 
of  victories  and  defeats,  in  abstract  language,  being 
varied  by  the  pictures  of  things  actually  seen  or 
distinctly  reported.  In  reading  Gregory  of  Tours  one 
is  often  prompted  to  look  at  his  figures  in  the  light  of 
the  epic  poetry  and  its  favourite  situations  and  formu- 
las :  sometimes  a  word  in  the  Latin  will  recall  the 
Teutonic  phrase,  like  circidi  loricce,  the  "  hringas,"  the 
rings  of  mail  so  common  in  the  war  poetry.     At  other 


LATIN   AUTHORS.  129 

times  the  things  told  of  are  the  same  things  as  Frois- 
sart  tells,  and  on  the  same  ground,  "  the  marches  of 
Burdigaloys,"  and  elsewhere.  The  underground  pass- 
ages of  the  western  castles  surprised  those  who  had 
to  deal  with  them  as  invaders  and  assailants.  "'Have 
the  castles  of  this  country  such  ordinaunce?'  asked 
Sir  Gautier.  'Sir,' quoth  Sir  Hugh,  '  there  be  divers 
such  castles  as  of  old  time  pertained  to  Eaynalt  of 
Mountalban  that  hath  such  conveyance ;  for  when 
he  and  his  brethren  kept  war  against  King  Charle- 
main  of  France  they  were  made  all  after  tliis  manner 
by  the  counsel  and  advice  of  Maugis  their  cousin.'" 
But  long  before  the  day  of  the  sons  of  Aymon, 
(iregory  of  Tours  was  writing  of  the  same  "convey- 
ance," and  describing  the  same  business  as  Froissart. 

Being  a  writer  of  memoirs  also,  and  not  a  romancer 
or  an  epic  poet,  he  can  introduce  many  humours  be- 
sides the  incidents  of  warlike  adventure.  His  chief 
personage  on  the  whole  is  Chilperic,  and  Ohilperic 
is  not  treated  unfairly.  "The  Nero  and  Herod  of 
our  time"  he  is  called  by  Gregory,  but  he  is  shown 
occasionally  in  his  hours  of  ease  ;  interested  in  spelling 
reform,  and  debating  pleasantly  about  theology  with 
Prisons  the  Jew.  "Taking  him  gently  by  the  hair 
he  said  to  me:  'Come,  priest  of  God,  and  lay  thy 
hand  upon  him.' "  Shortly  before  he  had  been  vexed 
by  Gregory's  opposition  in  an  argument,  but  he  seems 
to  have  borne  no  malice.  Gregory  is  severe  upon  his 
contempt  of  the  clergy;  he  jested  about  nothing  more 
readily  than  the  manners  of  bishops.  On  the  other 
hand  Gregory  criticises  the  king's  poetry :  he  wrote 

I 


130        EUROrEAN   LITERATURE — THE   DARK   AGES, 

two  books  in  imitation  of  Sediilius.  "The  weak  ver- 
sicles  had  no  feet  to  stand  on,  and  wanting  right  intel- 
ligence he  made  short  syllables  long  and  long  syllables 
short" — in  all  artistic  respects  inferior  to  Nero. 

Jordanes  the  Goth  (more   accurately  an  Alan  by 
descent)   has   preserved  in   his  abridgment   the   sub- 
stance of  the  lost  book  of  Cassiodorus  on 

T(yx*(LfL  77/PS 

Gothic  history.  He  also  wrote  a  History  of 
the  World,  but  his  work  on  the  Goths  has  made  his 
name,  perhaps  with  some  injustice  to  Cassiodorus,^ 
yet  Jordanes  is  more  than  a  copier,  and  has  thought 
out  his  narrative  for  himself.  Jordanes  has  a  place 
among  the  contemporary  authorities  who  have  re- 
corded in  prose  the  events  that  shaped  themselves 
into  a  different  kind  of  story  for  the  poets  of  the  Ger- 
man heroic  age.  He  himself  has  a  lofty  conception  of 
the  destiny  and  fortunes  of  the  Gothic  race,  and  his 
account  of  the  origin  of  the  warlike  nations  in  the 
Northern  island,  Scauzia,  officina  gentium,  corresponds 
in  prose  to  the  epic  genealogies  of  the  poets.  He 
cannot  keep  the  poets  out  of  his  book ;  he  tells  the 
story  of  the  death  of  Swanhild  and  of  the  vengeance 
taken  by  her  brothers,  which  no  doubt  was  current  in 
his  day,  in  Gothic  verse,  and  which  takes  a  new  form 
later  in  a  younger  language,  in  the  verses  on  the  death 
of  Ermanaric  at  the  end  of  Ssemund's  Edda. 

The  chief  personage,  however,  for  Jordanes  is  not 
a  Gothic  hero,  but  Attila  the  Hun,  whose  history, 
derived  from  Prisons,  is  told  more  fully  than  the  rest, 
and  in  a  more  regular  style. 

^  Jordanis  Romana  et  Gotica,  ed.  Momnisen,  Mon.  Germ.,  1882. 


LATIN   AUTHORS.  131 

Gildas,  born  at  Dumbarton  (Alcluith),  on  tbe  day  of 

Mount  Badon,   the   twelfth   battle  of   Arthur,  wrote 

about  the  year  540  his  book  of  the  rum  of 

Gildas.         -r,   .     ••      T  1  1      -• 

Britain/  and  represents  even  more  emphati- 
cally than  Orosius  the  mediaeval  affection  for  lamenta- 
tion, mourning,  and  woe.  By  his  birth,  the  theme  of 
his  history,  and  the  temper  of  his  style,  Gildas  is  one 
of  the  first  authors  of  the  Middle  Ages.  The  conflict 
of  Britons  and  Saxons  in  his  own  lifetime  is  rendered 
by  him  with  that  pathos  which  has  always  accompanied 
the  tradition  of  those  conflicts.  It  took  captive  the 
conqueror,  and  in  a  later  day  of  tribulation,  before 
other  invaders,  the  Saxon  Wulfstan  remembers  the 
lament  of  Gildas :  the  sorrows  of  the  isle  of  Britain 
are  repeated,  the  humiliation,  the  call  to  repentance, 
when  the  English  in  their  turn  have  to  meet  the 
force  of  the  Danes.  It  is  a  prophetic  book :  the 
author  knows  that  he  is  taking  upon  him  the  office 
of  Jeremiah.  Great  part  of  his  work  is  not  history 
but  denunciation;  the  history  is  a  parenthesis.  In 
style  Gildas  is  one  of  the  masters  of  the  enthusiastic 
sort  of  Latin  prose,  rich  in  poetical  ornament  and 
a  strange  vocabulary.^ 

Gildas  got  his  learning  from  the  famous  teacher  of 
South  Wales,  Iltut,  at  Llantwit  Major,  and  the  Latin 

^  Gildce  Sapientis  de  Excidio  et  Conquestu  Britannice,  ed.  Momm- 
sen  (3Ion.  Germ.),  1894  ;  ed.  Hugh  Williams,  1899-1901  (Cymmrodor- 
ion  Record  Series) :  cf.  Zinimer,  Nennius  Vindicatus,  1893,  p.  100. 

2  The  Lorica  ascribed  to  Gildas,  a  hymn  of  prayer  for  protection, 
contains  a  number  of  Hebrew  words  such  as  were  in  favour  in  a 
certain  rhetorical  school,  the  school  of  Hispcrica  Famina.  But  this 
Hebrew  element  is  wanting  in  the  prose  of  Gildas,  which  is  inflated 
but  not  unintelligible. 


132         EUROPEAN    LITERATURE— THE    DARK    AGES. 

of  that  school  was  florid  on  principle.  But  Gildns 
appears  to  wear  his  embroidery  with  a  better  grace, 
because  more  naturally,  than  other  rhetoricians  of 
that  kind;  there  is  none  of  the  incongruity  many 
of  them  show  between  the  trivial  matter  and  the 
intemperate  language.  The  eloquence  of  Gildas  has 
fervour  in  it,  and  his  mind  goes  out  sincerely  in 
the  chanting  declamation.  His  oratorical  skill  is 
shown  in  his  use  of  Biblical  language,  and  perhaps 
the  highest  praise  due  to  his  style  is  that  the  quoted 
passages  are  not  out  of  keeping  with  his  own 
sentences. 

St  Gregory  the  Great  is  known  in  the  history  of 
literature  as  one  of  the  enemies;  his  writings  "reveal 
^.g^o,.y  his  implacable  aversion  to  the  monuments 
the  Great,  ^f  classic  gcnius  ;  and  he  points  his  severest 
censure  against  the  profane  learning  of  a  bishop,  who 
taught  the  art  of  grammar,  studied  the  Latin  poets, 
and  pronounced  with  the  same  voice  the  praises  of 
Jupiter  and  those  of  Christ."^  But  for  all  that  his 
writings  are  part  of  the  educational  tradition ;  they 
have  a  strong  literary  character  of  their  own,  and 
their  objection  to  grammar  is  capable  of  a  milder  ex- 
planation than  is  commonly  given.  In  the  preface  to 
the  Moralia  he  utters  the  same  contempt  for  grammar 
as  in  the  often  cited  letter  to  Bishop  Desiderius :  one 
might  expect,  from  the  interpretation  commonly  put 
upon  those  passages,  that  he  would  have  written  m 
despite  of  grammar  witli  the  freedom  used  by  Gregory 

^  Gibbon,  ch.  xlv. 


LATIN   AUTHORS.  133 

of  Tours,  or  even  with  that  of  the  Epistolce  Ohscurorum 
Virorum.  But  it  is  not  so.  His  Latin  is  not  regard- 
less or  unprincipled.  The  dislike  of  grammar  stops 
short  of  heinous  crime.  It  is  the  protest  of  a 
masterful  and  practical  intellect  against  the  vanities 
of  the  ornamental  scliools  of  composition.  Cassio- 
dorus  is  probably  responsible  for  the  intolerant 
language  of  Gregory.  No  doubt  Gregory  is  carried  a 
little  too  far, — "indignum  vehementer  existimo  ut 
verba  celestis  oraculi  restringam  sub  regulis  Donati." 
But  he  does  not  break  Donatus's  head,  for  all  this 
desperate  profession.  "Unde  et  ipsam  loquendi  artem 
quam  magisteria  disciplinse  exterioris  insinuant  ser- 
vare  despexi."  The  very  sentences  in  which  the  pro- 
clamation is  made  show  that  Gregory  has  taken  as 
much  as  suited  him,  and  as  much  as  was  convenient 
for  a  freeborn  orator,  from  the  studies  of  the  Trivmm. 
"Non  metacismi  collisionem  fugio,"  he  says.  Se- 
quence of  a  vowel  upon  m  was  discouraged  in  rhetoric 
and  branded  metacismus}  Gregory's  slighting  notice 
of  this  prescription  is  no  more  remarkable  than  the 
impatience  of  any  practical  solid  writer  of  the  present 
day  with  the  trifling  concerns  of  style.  The  books  of 
St  Gregory  were  taken  up  and  studied  everywhere  in 
the  Middle  Ages — the  Moralia,  his  commentary  on 
Job  ;  the  Dialogues;  the  Pastoral  Care;  i\iQ  Homilies ? 
The  Moralia  are  chiefly  notable  in  literature  as  con- 
firming the  old  method  of  allegorical  interpretation. 

^  I.sidor. ,  Etym.  i.  32,  metacismus  est  quotiens  m  litteram  vocalis 
sequitur,  ut  honum  aurum,  justum  amicvm. 
'^  Migne,  Pair.  Lat.,  75-79. 


134        EUROPEAN    LITERATURE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

It  does  not  put  out  of  use  the  previous  commentaries, 
but  it  reduces  their  value  by  its  greater  extent,  its 
greater  perseverance  and  elaboration.  It  is  one  of  the 
reservoirs  in  the  history  of  literature, — that  is  to  say, 
one  of  the  comprehensive  books  that  gather  together 
the  results  of  older  sources  and  become  the  main 
source,  in  their  turn,  for  everything  beneath  them  in 
order  of  time.  It  is  pleasant  to  compare  the  functions 
of  the  Moralia  with  that  of  the  Romaunt  of  the  Rose. 
The  books  hold  the  same  kind  of  position,  through 
the  way  in  which  they  absorb  a  number  of  older 
currents,  and  make  themselves  into  the  obvious  store 
of  supply  for  places  at  a  lower  level.  There  is  no 
offence  in  the  comparison ;  the  method  of  St  Gregory 
allows  the  juxtaposition  of  all  the  most  incompatible 
things  for  the  sake  of  the  moral.  No  quotation  can 
give  any  proper  idea  of  the  amount  and  the  intricacy 
of  allegorical  conceits  in  the  Moralia,  nor  of  their  in- 
fluence upon  later  students.  It  cannot  be  described. 
One  quality  it  has,  however,  which  ought  never  to 
be  ignored.  The  most  appalling,  the  most  deliberate 
absurdities  of  false  wit,  as  St  Gregory's  expositions 
must  be  judged  when  taken  as  mere  literature,  mere 
play  of  figures,  they  are  yet  combined  with  the  strong- 
est common -sense  and  practical  judgment.  They 
appear,  speaking  generally,  the  most  enormous  riot  of 
untrained  fancy ;  beside  these  allegories  the  most  un- 
tamed things  in  history  seem  merely  respectable. 
But  they  are  still  the  work  of  one  of  the  greatest 
men  of  business  in  the  world,  and  he  shows  what 
his  mind  is  in  the  plain  statement  which  he  gives,  of 


LATIN   AUTHORS.  135 

the  limits  of  allegory.  Not  everything  iu  Scripture, 
says  St  Gregory,  is  to  be  put  through  those  varia- 
tions. There  are  many  things  that  are  falsely  under- 
stood when  they  are  wrested  from  their  superficial 
meaning  into  allegory.  The  Holy  Scripture  has  some- 
thing for  all  minds.  "  Habet  in  publico  unde  par- 
vulos  nutriat,  servat  in  secreto  unde  mentes  sub- 
limium  in  admiratione  suspendat.  Quasi  quidam 
quippe  est  fluvius  ut  ita  dixerim  planus  et  altus  in 
quo  et  agnus  ambulet  et  elephas  natet"  (Preface  to 
Moralia,  c.  4).  It  is  like  a  river  with  pools  and 
shallows,  where  in  one  place  the  lamb  may  wade,  in 
another  the  elephant  may  swim.  This  proposition 
was  generally  accepted ;  it  is  a  favourite  quotation 
with  Boccaccio,  who  used  and  applied  it  in  his  theory 
of  the  art  of  poetry,  in  his  Life  of  Dante,  and  in  his 
Florentine  lectures — a  sufficient  proof  of  the  authority 
of  St  Gregory  even  in  the  alien  provinces  of  literary 
criticism,  and  at  a  time  when  grammar  was  seeking 
vengeance  for  the  oppressions  of  the  Dark  Ages. 

The  Pastoral  Care'^  is  a  better  book  than  the 
Moralia  from  a  literary  point  of  view.  Although 
there  is  enough  in  it  of  the  allegorical  method,  that 
does  not  so  much  overcome  the  practical  genius  of 
the  author  as  in  the  Moralia,  and  the  style  brings 
out  the  character  of  the  writer  in  dealing  with  per- 
haps his  best  subject.  He  understood  both  the  flock 
and  the  shepherds.  It  is  something  more  also  than 
directions  to  the  clergy.     It  is  a  criticism  of  life  (not 

^  De  Postorali  Cn/ra,  ed.  Westholi,  Mouasterii  WesLphalorum,  1 860, 
ed.  altera. 


136        EUROPEAN    LITERATURE — THE   DARK   AGES.      > 

being  other  than  prose,  at  the  same  time),  and  it  gave 
a  summary  of  morals  which,  starting  from  less  meta- 
physical ground,  was  well  fitted  to  support  the  Con- 
solation of  Philosophy  among  the  books  which  were 
almost  indispensable  in  the  Middle  Ages.  The  story 
in  the  Icelandic  Bishops'  Lives  of  the  deathbed  of 
Thorlak,  the  third  Bishop  of  Skalholt  (+1133),  is 
a  testimony,  in  addition  to  King  Alfred's  translation, 
showing  what  efficacy  the  Pastoral  Care  had,  and  in 
what  honour  it  was  held.  He  asked  to  have  it  read 
to  him  as  he  lay  sick,  "  and  men  thought  that  he 
looked  forward  to  his  death  with  a  better  courage 
than  before  the  reading  besran."  That  a  manual  of 
directions  for  the  practical  work  of  a  clergyman 
among  his  people  should  have  been  available  in  this 
way  for  the  comfort  of  the  dying  is  some  proof  of 
a  human  virtue  in  it,  besides  its  ecclesiastical  merits. 

The  Dialogues  of  St  Gregory  were  more  popular 
still.  They  also  were  translated  into  Anglo-Saxon ; 
they  were  translated  into  French.^ 

They  are  a  series  of  stories,  intended  to  correspond, 
in  the  West,  to  the  Vitce  Patricm,  the  lives  of  the 
saints  in  the  Desert,  the  widely  read  collection  of 
miracles  whose  vogue  appeared  to  Gregory  rather 
unjust  to  the  fame  of  Lhe  holy  men  of  Italy.  One 
whole  book  is  devoted  to  Saint  Benedict:  the  others 

^  The  old  Fienoh  ver.sioi),  Li  Quatre  livre  des  Dudoges  Grcyoire  le 
Pape  del  lore  de  Jtomme  des  miracles  des  peres  de  Lumbardie,  has  been 
edited  by  Dr  Wendelin  Forster,  1876,  with  the  Latin  original.  The 
Anglo-Saxon  Dialogues,  translated  by  Bishop  Wrorferth  of  Worcester, 
have  been  edited  by  Dr  Hans  Hecht,  in  the  fifth  volume  of  Grein's 
Bibliothck  der  amjclsuchslschen  Prosa,  1900. 


LATIN   AUTHORS.  137 

are  miscellaneous,  and  all  are  interesting  in  one  way 
or  another.  Gregory,  at  the  beginning,  complains  of 
the  oppression  of  duties,  the  secular  business  that 
attends  upon  the  pastoral  care.  The  Dialogues  with 
Peter  the  Deacon  are  a  relief  to  him.  His  character 
shows  itself  none  the  less  in  his  choice  of  a  subject 
in  which  to  rest  from  his  worldly  avocations.  It  is 
not  meditation,  speculation,  or  devotion ;  it  is  history 
or  memoirs,  the  record  of  occurrences,  that  unbends 
the  mind  of  St  Gregory.  He  repeats  his  scorn  of 
literature  in  the  opening  of  his  Life  of  St  Benedict  : 
"  Despectis  itaque  litterarum  studiis  .  .  .  sanctse  con- 
versationis  habitum  quaesivit.  Kecessit  igitur  scienter 
nesciens,  et  sapienter  indoctus"  (Died.  ii.  Fref)  He 
makes  up  for  this  by  the  stores  of  legend  with  which 
the  Dialogues  are  filled— legend  that  represents,  as 
no  mere  history  could,  the  common  mind  of  the  sixth 
century.  It  has  no  limits,  no  scruples;  it  tells  how 
St  Benedict  in  a  vision  saw  the  whole  world  brought 
together  in  one  glance  ;  how  the  anchorite  of  Samnium 
took  a  stick  to  the  bears  who  came  for  his  beehives ; 
how  the  hermit  of  Li  pari  saw  Theodoric  the  Great,  on 
the  day  of  his  death,  carried  in  bonds  between  Pope 
John  and  Symmachus  and  thrown  into  the  Volcano.^ 

*  A  story  may  be  quoted  iu  full,  from  the  fourth  chapter  of 
Book  I.  :— 

"Quadam  vero  die  una  Dei  famula  ex  eodem  monasterio  virginum 
hortum  ingressa  est.  Quae  lactucam  couspieieus  coucupivit,  eamque 
signo  crucis  benedicere  oblita,  avide  momordit ;  sed  arrepta  a  diabolo 
protiuus  cecidit.  Cumque  vexaretur  eidem  patri  Equitio  sub  celeri- 
tate  nuntiatum  est,  ut  veniret  concitus,  et  orando  protegeret. 
Moxque  portam  idem  pater  ut  ingressus  est,  coepit  ex  ejus  ore 
quasi  satisfaciens  ipse  qui  banc  arripuerat  diabolus  clamare  diceus  : 


138        EUROPEAN  LITEliATUllE — THE  DARK  AGES. 

The  Homilies  of  the  fourth  great  Latin  Father  were 
naturally  authoritative  for  later  homilists.  But  the 
history  of  this  tradition  of  sermons  is  too  complex 
for  the  present  essay. 

Between  Gregory  the  Great  and  Bede,  the  chief 

name  for  learning  is  Isidore  of  Seville  (bishop  600- 

636).     Few  educational   writers  have  had 

Isidore. 

more  success.  Though  little  except  a  com- 
piler, he  was  recognised  as  an  authority  along  with 
the  Fathers,  and  quoted  by  clerks  and  laymen  down  to 
the  end  of  the  Middle  Ages.  His  Etymologies,  especi- 
ally (or  Origines,  in  20  books  ^ ),  were  used  as  a  supply 
of  ideas,  facts,  and  phrases.  An  alliterative  line  in 
the  English  Destruction  of  Troy  (1.  4426)  brings  to- 
gether the  author  and  his  book — 

"  And  Ysidre  in  Ethemoleger  openly  tellis," 

which  is  as  good  an  instance  as  could  be  found  of  his 
popularity.     In  this  way  he  was  thought  and  spoken 

JEgo  q'uid feci ?  ego  qicid  feci?  Sedebammihi super  lactucam ;  venitilla 
et  momordit  me.  Cui  cum  gravi  indignatione  vir  Dei  preecepit  ut 
discederet,  et  locum  in  omnipotentis  Dei  famula  nou  haberet.  Qui 
protinus  abscessit,  nee  earn  ultra  contingere  prpevaluit. " 

("It  befell  one  day  that  a  nun  of  the  same  convent  went  into  the 
garden  ;  there  she  saw  a  lettuce,  and  desired  it  and  greedily  ate  it, 
forgetting  to  make  the  sign  of  the  cross  for  a  blessing.  Suddenly 
she  fell  down,  possessed  by  the  devil,  and  sore  vexed.  Word  was 
brought  at  once  to  Father  Equitius,  to  come  with  all  speed  to  her 
help.  As  soon  as  he  came  in  at  the  door,  the  devil  who  had  entered 
into  her  spoke  by  her  mouth,  as  if  to  defend  himself,  and  cried,  '  What 
have  I  dune?  What  have  I  done  ?  I  was  sitting  on  a  lettuce  leaf, 
and  she  swallowed  me.'  Whom  the  man  of  God  charged  angrily  to 
depart  out  of  her,  and  to  leave  the  handmaid  of  the  most  high  God. 
And  he  departed  forthwith,  and  had  no  power  to  hurt  her  more.") 

1  Migne,  P.  L.   82. 


LATIN  AUTHORS.  139 

of  everywhere.  But  Isidore  was  not  only  a  favourite 
resource  of  the  half-learned ;  scholars  relied  upon 
him.  Hraban  of  Fulda,  who  did  for  the  ninth  cent- 
ury what  Isidore  had  done  for  the  seventh,  founded 
on  Etymologiarum  his  own  encyclopedic  work  De 
Uhiverso. 

The  seventh  century  till  the  work  of  Bede  at  the 
end  of  it  has  little  historical  work  of  importance. 
Isidore  included  history  along  with  all  other  matters  of 
knowledge  in  his  survey ;  he  compiled  a  chronicle 
of  the  whole  world,  and  added  to  it  a  history  of 
the  Visigothic  kings ;  he  wrote  also,  follov/ing  the 
example  of  St  Jerome,  a  series  of  lives  of  illustrious 
men.  This  latter  work  was  continued  by  Hildefonsus, 
Bishop  of  Toledo,  while  Julian,  also  Bishop  of  Toledo, 
wrote  the  praise  of  King  Wamba.^  The  history  which 
goes  by  the  name  of  Fredegarius  ^  includes  a  continu- 
ation of  Gregory  of  Tours,  with  even  less  pretence 
of  style  than  Gregory.  Julian  of  Toledo  is  highly 
rhetorical,  and  thus  Julian  and  Fredegarius  in  the 
seventh  century  repeat  the  contrast  of  styles  ex- 
emplified in  the  previous  age  by  Cassiodorus  and 
Gregory  of  Tours.  In  Bede  at  last  is  found  a  proper 
mean  of  rhetoric  between  the  pomp  of  the  one  school 
and  the  bareness  of  the  other. 

Aldhelm   of   Malmesbury,  pupil   and   successor  of 

Maildulf,  the  Celtic  founder  of  that  house,  helps  to 

take  away  the   reproach    of    the    seventh 

Aldhelm.  *'  ^ 

century  as  the  least  learned  in  all  the  Dark 
Ages.     But  for  all  his  fame  there  is  little  left  of  his 

1  Migue,  P.  L.,  96.  »  ^d.  Krusch,  1888  {Mon.  Germ.  Hist.) 


140        EUROPEAN    LITERATURE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

work;^  his  florid  style  is  monotonous,  and,  as  with 
Cassiodoriis,  might  be  exemplified  sufficiently  in  one  or 
two  quotations.  Aldhelm  himself  has  offered  alterna- 
tive descriptions  of  his  style,  whether  it  should  be 
termed  verhosa  garrulitas  or  garrida  verhositas,  and  the 
problem  has  not  been  decided.  Yet  there  is  some- 
times wit  and  fancy  in  his  prose  as  well  as  an  am- 
bitious vocabulary  and  formal  ornaments  of  rhetoric; 
as  where  in  De  Laudibus  Virginitatis  he  describes  the 
working  of  the  bees,  and  their  attention  to  linden, 
willow,  and  broom. 

In  a  preface  to  his  Latin  u^nigynata — an  epistle  to 
Acircius,  i.e.,  Aldfrith  of  Northumberland — he  dis- 
cusses prosody  and  other  subjects.  The  poems  them- 
selves, on  the  model  of  Symphosius,  are  not  altogether 
conventional :  Aldhelm  at  least  thouoht  out  these 
light  verses  for  himself,  if  he  got  nothing  very  novel 
from  them.  His  epistle  in  rhyme  on  his  experiences 
in  a  storm  in  Cornwall  is  a  singular  thing  in  the 
seventh  century.  He  wrote  English  verse  also,  not 
extant ;  if  among  his  English  poems  there  was  any- 
thing like  the  humours  of  this  Cornish  journey,  it 
must  have  been  a  remarkable  exception  to  the  common 
Anglo-Saxon  manner.  As  it  is,  the  contrast  between 
this  familiar  Latin  poetry  and  the  Anglo  -  Saxon 
solemnities  is  strikiiig  enough.  Things  were  possible 
in  Latin  verse  whicli  not  only  could  not  be  expressed 
but  could  hardly  be  thought  in  English.  It  was  not 
till  some  centuries  later  that  English  poetry  discovered 
the    use    of    the    colloquial    manner ;    Anglo  -  Saxon 

1  Migne,  P.  Z.,  89  ;  ed.  Giles,  Oxford,  1844. 


LATIN   AUTHORS.  141 

authors  could  play  with  Latin  as  they  could  not  with 
the  literary  forms  of  their  own  language. 

It  is  unfair  to  the  seventh  century  not  to  take 
Eede's  works  as  representing  the  learning  and  intelli- 
gence of  the  time.^  He  did  not  in  his  read- 
ing or  writing  go  beyond  the  sources  or  the 
models  that  were  commonly  accessible.  For  all  that, 
the  impression  he  leaves  is  that  of  something  different 
from  his  age,  an  exceptional  talent  escaping  from  limit- 
ations and  hindrances.  There  is  no  period  in  the 
history  of  Britain  or  of  the  English  Church  in  which 
Bede  is  antiquated ;  in  every  generation  he  speaks 
familiarly.  The  seventeenth  century  is  less  intellig- 
ible to  the  eighteenth,  the  eighteenth  century  more 
in  opposition  to  the  nineteenth,  than  Bede  to  any  one 
of  them ;.  his  good  sense  is  everywhere  at  home.  No 
author  in  the  Dark  Ages  has  so  little  of  the  "  Gothic  " 
qualities  that  offended  the  enlightenment  of  the  l\e- 
naissance ;  and  although  he  wants  the  imaginative 
gift  through  which  the  mediaeval  literatures  recovered 
favour  in  the  Eomantic  schools,  he  speaks  authentically 
for  his  own  time ;  he  is  not  prematurely  modern. 
Bede  has  taken  his  place  through  simple  strength  of 
mind  and  character ;  not  by  any  great  discovery,  nor 
by  anticipations  of  later  theories,  nor  any  brilliance 
of  fancy  or  of  style,  but  by  applying  his  mind  in- 
dustriously to  his  subject,  with  a  firm  conviction  of 
its  value  and  a  resolution  not  to  be  deceived  about  it. 
The  reputation  of   Bede  seems  always  to  have  been 

^  Ed.  Giles,  1843  ;  Opera  Ilistorica,  ed.  Plummei-,  Oxford,  1896. 


142        EUROPEAN   LITERATURE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

exempt  from  the  common  rationalist  criticism,  and 
this  although  his  books  are  full  of  the  things  a 
Voltairian  student  objects  to.  The  miracles  of  St 
Cuthbert,  as  recorded  by  Bede,  are  not  more  plausible 
(in  the  march  of  intellect)  than  those  of  any  other 
saint,  the  allegorical  interpretations  in  Bede  are  not 
better  protected  than  those  of  St  Gregory  against  the 
scrutiny  of  Erasmus  or  Tindal,  yet  somehow  Bede 
is  left  unchallenged.  With  regard  to  the  questions 
of  Easter  and  the  tonsure,  which  made  so  much 
difficulty  between  the  Celtic  church  and  Rome  in 
Bede's  day,  Bede  is  intolerant.^  But,  like  Dr  Johnson's 
refusal  to  countenance  a  Presbyterian  Church  in  Scot- 
land, the  severity  of  Bede  has  been  taken  lightly  by 
the  most  sensitive,  and  has  failed  to  make  him  enemies, 
even  among  the  fiercest  advocates  of  Christian  charity 
and  impartial  toleration.  It  appears  to  be  felt  that  he 
is  a  great  man.  The  volume  of  his  book  is  too  much 
for  carpers  and  cavillers. 

Bede  began  by  mastering  the  liberal  arts.  His 
whole  life  was  spent,  with  liardly  any  change,  in  the 
monastery  at  Jarrow ;  he  was  a  student  from  the 
first,  and  very  early  a  teacher.  Among  the  busy 
travelling  scholars  of  those  days  Bede  was  sedentary, 
and  he  saw  little  of  the  face  of  the  world.  Like 
Kant  at  Konigsberg  he  was  content  with  his  own 
study,  but  perhaps  with  more  of  an  effort,  more  re- 
nunciation.     Adam  nan  came  with  his  book  on  the 

^  "ITnde  merito  movit  liKC  quocstio  sensus  et  corda  multorum, 
timentiutn  ne  forte  accepto  Christianitatis  vocabulo  in  vacuum  cur- 
rerent  aut  cucurrissent "  (//.  E.,  iii.  25). 


LATIN   AUTHORS.  143 

Holy  Places  to  dedicate  it  to  King  Aldfrid  of  Northum- 
berland, and  Bede  took  up  the  subject,  quoting  from 
the  book  in  his  History,  and  making  a  book  of  his 
own  out  of  its  materials.  The  latest  editor  of  the 
History  quotes  a  passage  from  one  of  his  commen- 
taries,^ in  which  there  is  some  regret  for  the  indirect- 
ness of  his  knowledge ;  the  Eastern  world  is  known 
to  him  only  through  books,  and  if  he  writes  at  length 
on  the  natural  history  of  trees,  out  of  what  he  has 
learned  in  books,  it  is  not  for  ostentation  of  know- 
ledge but  to  instruct  himself  and  others  who  have 
been  on  no  voyages,  but  were  born  and  brought  up 
in  an  island  of  the  ocean  sea,  cut  off  from  the  greater 
world. 

Bede's  earliest  writings  were  in  the  trivial  subjects 
of  literature  —  the  grammar  and  rhetoric  of  the 
ordinary  school  course.  He  follows  the  example  of 
Cassiodorus  and  Isidore,  and  does  his  work,  so  to 
speak,  as  a  college  lecturer  in  the  humanities,  before 
going  on  to  deeper  subjects.  His  treatise  De  Arte 
Metrica,  a  school-book,  has  the  stamp  of  Bede's 
intellect  upon  it.  Work  of  this  sort  was  common- 
place, but  he  could  not  do  it  in  a  perfunctory  way. 
There  is  a  collection  of  examples  of  verse;  and  the 
forms  are  carefully  explained.  Many  authors  are 
quoted — Lucretius,  Virgil,  Lucan ;  but  Bede  shows 
already  the  signs  of  his  withdrawal  from  profane 
learning.  In  his  examples  of  drama  he  refers  to  the 
Eclogues  of  Virgil,  but  these  are  set  off  against  "our" 
dramas:   "with   us   the  Song  of  Songs  is  written  in 

^  H.  E.   ed.  Plummer,  ii.  305. 


144        EUROPEAN    LITERATURE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

this  kind,  the  dialogue  of  Christ  and  the  Church." 
Against  the  Georgics  and  Lucretius  stand  {aimcl  nos 
again)  the  Parables  of  Solomon  and  Ecclesiastes ; 
while  in  the  mixed  kind,  part  narrative  part  dramatic, 
the  book  of  Job  is  compared  with  the  Iliad  and 
Odyssey  and  JEneid.  The  most  original  and  interest- 
ing part  of  the  book  is  the  explanation  of  rhythmical 
verse,  the  verse  of  the  vulgares  poetm,  in  which 
quantity  is  not  observed,  but  the  forms  of  classical 
verse  are  followed  without  quantity.  Bede  has  no 
scholarly  scruples  about  this  modern  sort  of  com- 
position. 

It  is  not  correct  verse,  as  he  explains  clearly  ;  but 
having  explained  he  proceeds  to  admire.  It  is  possible 
"  to  kindle  or  to  slake,"  in  the  free  verse  of  the 
Ambrosian  hymns ;  and  Bede  praises  especially  the 
hymn  which  begins  with  peremptory  defiance  of 
strict  number: 

"Eex  seterne  Dornine 
E.erum  creator  omnuim," 

His  other  work  in  these  preliminary  things  is  not  of 
quite  so  much  interest  as  this  Prosody ;  but  in  his 
tract  on  Orthography,  and  another  on  the  Figures  and 
Tropes  in  the  Bible,  he  shows  his  good  sense;  if  he 
has  difficulties  with  the  Latin  of  the  Psalter,  he 
confesses  them  and  deals  with  them  fairly.  In  his 
other  scientific  or  educational  work,  his  chronography 
and  the  rest,  there  is  the  same  solidity,  recognised  by 
those  who  have  a  right  to  speak  of  his  subjects.  In 
what  may  be  reckoned  popidar  science  Bede  is  far 
aliead  of  ordinary  opinion. 


LATIN   AUTHOHS.  145 

Besides  the  Cliurch  History  he  wrote  other  historical 
books ;  the  Life  of  St  Cuthhert  (botli  in  prose  and 
verse)  and  Lives  of  the  Abbots  of  Wearmouth  and 
JarrovK  He  wrote  commentaries  on  the  Bible  (using 
a  Greek  text  in  his  work  on  the  Acts)  and  homilies, 
which  came  to  be  a  source  of  future  homilies  along 
with  the  authors  from  whom  he  himself  had  drawn — 
Augustine,  Jerome,  Gregory  the  Great.  One  of  the 
homilies — a  fragment,  rather — is  extant  in  an  old  Low 
German  translation,  written  on  the  fly-leaf  of  a  copy 
of  the  homilies  of  Gregory. 

The  Church  History  is  wanting  in  some  of  the  things 
to  be  found  in  less  masterly  historians.  The  chronicle 
The  Church  of  Gregory  of  Tours,  not  to  speak  of  Paulus 
History.  Diacouus  or  Liutprand,  has  more  adventure 
in  it,  the  writer  of  memoirs  having  less  responsibility 
and  more  freedom.  There  are  scenes,  however,  in 
Bede,  besides  the  well-known  ones,  which  show  the 
power  of  the  narrator ;  and  the  dignity  of  history  does 
not  prevent  him  from  bringing  in  lively  notes,  like  the 
description  of  Paulinus  by  one  who  had  seen  him,  or 
of  King  Edwin  riding  on  progress  with  his  banner 
borne  before  him.  There  are  episodes  in  Bede  that 
might  be  quoted  as  stories  merely:  the  vision  of 
Furseus,  though  that  is  abridged  and  not  improved 
by  Bede,  and  the  vision  of  Drihthelm,  which  is  given 
more  fully.  Often  as  it  has  been  repeated,  the  story 
of  the  conversion  of  Edwin,  the  Parable  of  the  Sparrow, 
remains  unspoilt,  as  sincere  as  the  Anglo-Saxon  poetry 
to  which  it  is  so  closely  related,  the  elegies  over  the 
vanity  of  earthly  glory. 

K 


146        EUROPEAN   LITERATURE — THE   DARK    AGES. 

The  great  literary  merit  of  Becle's  History  lies, 
however,  in  its  historical  sense.  Sound  liistory  has  a 
different  literary  value  from  unsound,  because  it  im- 
plies the  literary  virtues  of  judgment  and  arrange- 
ment, v^hich  W\\\  give  a  character  to  a  book  whatever 
its  grammar  or  rhetoric  may  be.  Bede,  who  was 
trained  in  the  use  of  authorities  and  documents,  and 
possessed  of  all  the  living  knowledge  that  came 
naturally  to  such  a  centre  as  Jarrow,  had  besides  the 
leisure  and  capacity  for  surveying  his  matter  before 
he  turried  it  into  a  book. 

Bede's  Latin  style  is  fluent  and  clear.  He  writes  in 
the  universal  language,  without  impediment — a  differ- 
ent language  altogether  from  the  lively  ungrammatical 
huddle  of  phrases  in  Gregory  of  Tours,  and  equally 
removed  from  the  absurd  pomp  of  Aldhelm. 

Adamnan,  ninth  abbot  of  lona,  -1-704,  23  Sept.,  the 
chief  biographer  of  St  Columba,  visited  Jarrow  in 
Bede's  time,  and  accepted  the  right  view 
about  Easter.  Both  in  style  and  in  matter 
he  differs  much  from  his  contemporary,  except  as 
regards  the  essential  points  of  lively  interest  in  his 
subject  and  a  faculty  for  nairation.  Besides  the  Life 
of  Columha}  he  wrote  on  the  Holy  Places,  taking 
notes  from  the  Frankish  Bishop  Arculf,  who  had 
been  in  Jerusalem.  He  is  known  in  Celtic  literature 
through  the  Irish  'Vision  of  Adamnan '^ — a  vision 
like  those  of  Furseus,  Drill thelm,  and  Tundal.  His- 
torically, he  represents  the  liberal  spirit  among  the 

i  Ed.  Reeves,  1857  ;  ed.  Fowler,  Oxford,  1894. 
2  Jrische  Texte,  i,  165, 


LATIN  AUTHORS.  147 

Celtic  men  of  learning,  to  which  so  much  of  Western 
culture  is  due,  but  which  had  suffered  in  the  Easter 
controversy  and  seemed  likely  to  give  place  to  a 
narrower  policy,  leaving  the  Saxons  to  take  care  of 
themselves.  The  enlightenment  of  Adamnan  in  his 
dealings  with  Northumberland  was  of  the  same  kind 
as  the  original  missionary  spirit  of  St  Aidan :  it 
would  not  keep  itself  merely  to  Ireland  or  to  Icolmkil. 
The  great  renewal  of  Irish  influence  long  afterwards 
on  the  Continent,  in  the  lifetime  of  Erigena  and 
Sedulius  Scottus,  was  a  victory  to  which  Adamnan 
contributed  when  he  made  terms,  so  to  speak,  with 
the  abbot  of  Jarrow.  His  book  is  not  the  less  honour- 
able to  his  own  house  in  the  island  of  Columba,  be- 
cause he  yielded  something  for  the  sake  of  union. 
Nor  is  it  possible  to  find  fault  with  it  for  any  want  of 
national  qualities,  or  any  attempt  to  comply  weakly 
with  foreign  manners. 

There  are  Irish  documents  where  the  native  idiom 
brings  along  with  it  a  savour  that  has  gone  from 
Adamnan's  Latin  story ;  in  the  Lismore  TAves  ^  there 
are  many  things  stranger,  more  humorous,  more 
beautiful,  than  are  to  be  found  in  Adamnan.  Yet  he 
has  told  the  tale  of  lona  rightly  and  faithfully,  with 
the  authority  of  the  living  traditions  of  the  place. 
His  style  is  much  more  loaded  than  that  of  Bede;  he 
uses  more  of  the  diction  of  Aldhelm.  Greek  words 
are  fairly  common — onomatis,  lithus,  &c., — and  still 
more  common  are  Latin  diminutives — prefatiunciday 

^  Lives  of  Saints  from  Booh  of  Lismore,  ed.  Whitley  Stokes,  Oxford, 
1890  ;  see  below,  p.  341. 


148        EUROPEAN   LITERATUEE — THE   DARK    AGES. 

tiiguriolum,  sermuscnlus.  But  in  this,  with  Aldhelm 
before  him,  there  is  nothing  to  wonder  at.  Adamiian 
has  not  the  simplicity  and  lucidity  of  Bede,  but 
neither  is  he  one  of  the  extreme  cases  of  false 
rhetoric.  His  taste  and  his  scholarship  are  not  quite 
trustworthy  with  regard  to  phrasing,  but  they  do  not 
spoil  his  story.  The  quaint  things  in  his  language,  it 
may  be  remarked,  are  not  to  be  put  down  forthwith  to 
the  credit  or  otherwise  of  the  Celtic  genius.  Adamnan 
was  an  Irishman  (from  Donegal),  and  he  shared  in  the 
common  Irish  love  of  rhetoric  and  ornamental  words. 
He -did  not,  however,  go  beyond  the  rules  or  invent 
new  devices  for  himself.  The  Irish  love  of  rhetoric 
was  not  much  different  from  the  florid  fashions  of 
other  people  at  that  time ;  what  is  native  and  char- 
acteristic in  Adamnan  must  be  looked  for  in  his 
substance  and  his  sentiment  more  than  in  his 
phrasing. 

There  are  many  noble  saints'  lives  in  the  Middle 
Ages,  and  there  are  many  legends  too  where  the  charm 
of  a  holy  life  is  blended  with  other  things  less  re- 
ligious, the  colours  of  romance.  There  is  none  where 
the  strength  of  a  sober  history  is  harmonised  with  the 
more  fantastic  spirit  as  it  is  in  Adamnan's  Life  of 
Columha.  It  is  this  that  makes  its  excellence:  Adam- 
nan is  in  agreement  with  Bede  on  the  one  hand,  with 
St  Brandan  on  the  other.  He  is  the  right  man  to 
speak  for  lona.  The  isle  belongs  to  two  worlds  (at 
least).  Its  history  is,  first  of  all,  that  of  a  great 
practical  genius  who  founded  and  put  in  order  an 
active  religious  house  of  much  inHuence  and  effect  in 


LATIN   AUTHORS.  149 

the  world:  that  is  one  side  of  it.  The  island  and  its 
saint  became  powers  in  the  world ;  the  relations  of 
lona  with  larger  places  are  practically  important,  and 
can  be  explained  to  any  reasonable  man.  There  is 
something  besides  piety  in  the  mind  of  the  visitor  to 
lona,  even  from  the  days  when  the  first  settlers,  and 
Cokimcille  himself  among  tliem,  were  apt  to  be  dis- 
turbed by  the  voices  of  pilgrims  calling  for  the  ferry 
across  the  sound.  lona  was  a  real  place,  with  a 
calculable  value,  much  occupied  in  affairs.  On  the 
other  hand,  there  are  certain  lights  and  certain  condi- 
tions of  the  mind  when  lona  becomes  again  like  one 
of  the  isles  of  Maelduin  or  St  Brandan.  The  beauty 
of  Adamuan's  work  is  that  it  represents  truly,  one 
cannot  but  feel,  both  the  serious  solid  life  of  lona, 
such  as  makes  it  important  in  history,  and  also  the 
vaguer  atmosphere  about  the  island.  It  is  not  a  fairy 
story,  for  all  the  wonders  in  it.  Yet  it  is  not  mere 
common-sense.  The  restlessness  of  the  sea  is  in  it, 
the  sea  that  drew  the  Irish  saints  on  toward  the  desert 
refuge  it  seemed  to  ofier  them ;  such  as  was  Cormac 
MacLethan  who,  from  voyages  far  to  the  North,  to  the 
Orkneys  and  even  beyond,  was  twice  brought  back,  and 
touched  at  lona  and  was  greeted  by  Columba.  And 
in  a  more  familiar  way,  many  things  are  considered  by 
Adamnan  and  Columba  besides  the  fame  of  their 
house :  they  have  to  think  of  the  harvest,  the  cows, 
salmon,  seals.  A  seal-poacher  from  Colonsay  was 
brought  up  before  Columba,  who  told  him  not  to  be 
a  thief,  but  to  come  and  ask  if  he  wanted  supplies : 
and  sent  him  away  with  some  sheep  instead.     Swine, 


150        EUliOrEAN   LITERATURE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

fed  on  the  autmnii  mast,  are  admired  by  the  saint,  as 
they  ore  by  tlie  Irisli  poets.  Nothing  in  Adaninan  is 
better  known  than  the  story  of  Columba's  last  days 
and  of  the  old  white  horse  that  came  to  say  good-bye  to 
him — the  old  horse  that  used  to  carry  the  milk-pails. 
Not  less  beautiful  is  Columba's  thoughtfulness  for  the 
tired  heron  blown  over  from  Ireland,  a  guest  on  the 
island  for  tliree  days,  tlien  returning,  as  Columba  fore- 
told, to  "  the  sweet  land  whence  she  came."  All 
Adamnan's  stories  are  true  to  lona,  and  her  very 
sands  are  dear  to  him. 

Between  Bede  and  Alcuin  there  is  an  interval  of 
a  generation,  during  which  few  books  were  published 
— a  period  of  study,  especially  in  Italy  and 
in  the  Northumbrian  school  of  York,  from 
which  the  learning  of  the  Carolingian  age  was  drawn. 
It  was  a  time  also  of  missionary  enterprise.  St  Boni- 
face had  a  share  in  both  kinds  of  labour,  and  his  house 
of  Fulda  made  a  new  station  in  the  forest  of  bar- 
barism, from  which  the  ideas  and  methods  of  York 
were  dispensed  in  due  time  for  the  proper  training 
of  the  Old  Saxons.  In  his  own  writings  Boniface 
followed  the  English  manner :  he  has  the  same  tastes 
as  Aldhelm  and  Bede,  shown  in  his  Latin  riddles,  his 
tale  of  a  vision  like  that  of  Drihthelm,  and  his  general 
encouragement  of  literature. 

In  the  later  part  of  the  eighth  century  begins  the 
great  age  of  mediaeval  learjiing,  the  educational  work 
'lite  Carolingian  of-  Cliarles  the  Great,  which  in  spite  of 
^3'-  political  trouiiles  is  continued  through  the 

century  following.     The  variety  of  Latin  books  which 


LATIN   AUTHORS.  151 

appeared  in  those  times  is  proof  tliat  their  learning  was 
more  tlian  spiritless  repetition.  There  was  some  leisure 
and  freedom,  and  much  literary  ambition.  The  Latin 
poets  of  the  court  of  Charlemagne  have  an  enthusiasm 
and  delight  in  classical  poetry,  and  also  that  good 
conceit  of  their  own  immortal  works  which  is  common 
in  later  humanists.  In  prose  there  was  no  less  activity. 
Besides  the  scientific  treatises  and  the  commentaries, 
the  edifying  works  of  Alcuiii  and  others,  there  were 
histories  written  with  different  motives.  Two  authors 
especially  stand  out,  Einhard  and  Paul  the  Lombard — 
the  one  distinguished  for  political  sense,  the  other  for 
his  gift  of  narrative,  both  of  them  fresh  and  inde- 
pendent minds.  The  scholarly  spirit  of  the  ninth 
century,  represented  in  the  letters  of  Lupus  of 
Ferrieres,  is  not  limited  to  the  orthodox  routine. 
One  of  the  chief  scholars,  with  more  Greek  than  most 
others,  Erigena,  is  famous  for  more  than  his  learning; 
as  a  philosopher  who,  whatever  his  respect  for  the 
Church,  acknowledged  no  authority  higlier  than 
Eeason. 

Alcuin  is  the  name  that  in  general  history  repre- 
sents the  learning  and  literature  of  the  age  of  Charle- 
magne.^ His  own  works  hardly  equal  his 
fame  as  a  teacher,  though  their  very  faults, 
their  want  of  orginal  substance,  their  excess  of  common- 
place, may  be  due  to  his  educational  virtues  and  his 
faculty  for  making  things  clear  to  an  audience  of 
pupils.  Alcuin  certainly  has  nothing  like  the  strong 
independent  mind  of  Bede,  and  never  takes  up  any 

^  Migue,  P.  L.,  100  ;  Monumenta  Alcniniana,  ed.  Jaffe,  1873. 


152        EUROPEAN    LlTEliATUltE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

research  for  its  own  sake  and  the  scientiiic  pleasure 
of  the  work.  His  ideas  are  all  diluted ;  the  audience 
is  always  with  him.  Of  his  professional  writings,  the 
dialof{ues  on  the  Trivial  Arts  are  more  attractive  than 
his  morality  or  theology.  In  the  Grammar  a  Frank 
and  a  Saxon  pupil  take  the  parts  of  Sandford  and 
Merton ;  in  Rhetoric  and  Dialectic  the  pupil  is  Charles 
the  Emperor  himself. 

Alcuin's  Latin  poems,  like  those  of  his  contempor- 
aries generally,  are  greatly  influenced  by  Fortunatus ; 
they  have  the  same  artifice,  the  same  courtly  good 
humour.  Some  of  his  poems  are  historical — the  Life 
of  his  kinsman  St  Willibrord  (which  Alcuin  also  de- 
scribed in  prose),  the  history  of  York,  the  elegy  on 
the  ruin  of  Lindisfarne.  But,  as  with  Fortunatus, 
the  historical  poems  have  less  interest  than  the 
occasional  pieces,  epigrams  and  epistles,  in  which 
is  expressed  the  life  of  the  poet  and  the  familiar 
conversation  of  other  accomplished  gentlemen,  their 
various  polite  diversions,  their  game  of  literature, 
their  ornamental  names.  These  pastoral  vanities  of 
the  great  Emperor  and  his  household  remain  in  the 
memory,  an  inseparable  accident  of  the  heroic  story. 

Of  all  the  poems  of  Alcuin  the  most  notable  is  the 
Contention  of  Winter  and  8'pring^  with  its  affinities 
to  widely  distant  families  in  literary  history ;  recalling 
the  debates  of  the  classical  eclogues,  anticipating  the 
later  mediaeval  "  disputisons "  in  different  languages, 
and  mingling  with  the  classical  type  of  verse  and 
expression  a  thoroughly  Northern  sort  of  sentiment. 
Here,  as  in  Anglo-Saxon  poetry,  it  is  the  cuckoo  that 


LATIN   AUTHORS.  153 

breaks  the  silence  of  winter,  a  bird  of  good  omen, 
though  Winter  in  the  dialogue  does  not  think  so. 
Winter  loves  the  rest,  the  good  cheer,  the  fire  in  hall, 
and  is  slow  to  wake  to  the  business  of  spring.  There 
is  no  peace  when  once  the  voice  of  the  cuckoo  has 
been  heard.^ 

Alcuin's  letters  are  full  of  the  same  domestic  interest 
as  his  occasional  verse;  but  his  prose  rhetoric,  like 
the  prose  of  Fortunatus,  runs  into  greater  extravagance 
than  his  not  over  temperate  poems,  and  the  levities 
are  sometimes  depressing.  He  writes  to  his  friend 
Bishop  Arno  of  Strassburg  by  his  affectionate  name 
of  "  Aquila  "  ("  Earn  ") — "  venerando  volucri  et  vere 
amantissimo  Aquilae  Albinus  salutem " — and  the 
Emperor  is  treated  with  the  same  kind  of  florid  style 
as  Cassiodorus  had  used  in  the  service  of  Theodoric. 

Theodulfus,2  Bishop  of  Orleans  (  +  821),  a  Goth  by 

birth,  was  the  principal  poet  of  the  court  of  Charles 

the  Great.     Perhaps  his  value  as  a  repre- 

Theodulfus.  .  i     /. 

sentative  person  and  (in  a  sense)  official 
poet  is  gained  at  the  expense  of  his  poetry.  He  has 
already  been  spoken  of  along  with  Fortunatus,  but  he 
does  not  come  up  to  the  measure  of  the  earlier  poet. 
He  has  not  the  same  life,  the  same  glorious  use  of  ad- 
jectives and  sense  of  the  value  of  syllables  ;  he  is  more 
respectable  and  correct.  Theodulfus  was  a  great  per- 
sonage. One  of  his  longer  poems,  his  admonition  to 
judges,  contains  a  long  and  amusing  account  of  his 
journey  in  the  South  as  Missus  Dominicus  in  798,  and 

^  Diimmler,  Poekv  Latini  jEvi  Carolini,  i.  270  {Mon.  Germ.  Hist.) 
2  Theodnlfi  CarminUt  ed.  Diimmler,  P.  Lat,  Carol.,  i.  pp.  437-581. 


154        EUKOPEAN    LITERATUKE — THE   DARK   AGES, 

of  the  various  kinds  of  bribes  offered  to  him — Moorish 
gold,  Cordovan  leather,  a  cup  embossed  with  the  labours 
of  Hercules.  At  the  close  of  his  life  he  was  suspected 
of  treason  by  Lewis  the  Pious,  and  kept  in  confine- 
ment at  Angers.  In  tliis  trouble  he  remembered 
Ovid,  and  sent  an  elegiac  poem  to  Bishop  Modoin 
of  Autun,  in  whicli  his  Muse  acts  as  his  advocate  and 
makes  supplication  for  help — the  Muse  in  her  own 
person.  Theodulfus  represents  in  his  poetry  all  the 
literary  ideals  of  the  time,  under  different  aspects. 
One  piece  has  been  often  quoted  by  the  historians 
of  learning,  because  it  is  good  evidence  "of  the  books 
which  I  was  wont  to  read  and  how  the  fables  of 
the  poets  are  to  be  philosophically  interpreted  in  a 
mywtical  sense."  He  draws  an  allegorical  picture 
of  the  Seven  Arts.  He  touches  off  the  character  of 
his  associates  and  manners  of  the  court.  The  learned 
men  were  fond  of  exchanging  compliments,  under 
their  adopted  names,  Homerus,  Flaccus,  Naso.  Theo- 
dulfus varies  this  with  criticism,  especially  with 
regard  to  "  the  Scot " — probably  Clement  the  Gram- 
marian— whom  he  did  not  like. 

Flaccus,  of  course,  is  Alcuin.  Naso  was  proba))ly 
an  Englishman  :  he  wrote  one  verse  which  sums  up 
the  glory  of  the  Empire  of  Charles : — 

"  Aurea  Roma  iterum  renovata  renascitiir  orbi.* 

Homerus  is  Angilbert,  the  father  of  NiLhnrd :  a 
fragment  of  a  poem  in  honour  of  the  Emperor 
is  ascribed  to   liim.^      ''The  Irish  exile"  (Ilihcruicics 

1  F.  Lai.  Carol.,  i.  355. 


LATIN   AUTHORS.  155 

ExuT),  whose  name  may  have  been  Dungal,  had  written 
before  him  in  the  epic  way  about  the  exploits  of 
Charles.^ 

In  tlie  next  generation  an  aiitlior  with  less  scholar- 
ship than  Naso  or  Fiaccus  wrote  a  much  more  enter- 
taining poem  than  anything  of  theirs.  It  may  seem 
unjust  that  a  poet  who  begins  a  verse 

"  Sed  quid  agam  jam  jam  ?" 

should  have  more  space  here  than  the  courtly  poets. 
ErmoJdus  ^^^  the  cpic  of  Emioldus  Nigellus  on  the 
mgdius.  reign  of  Lewis  the  Pious — it  is  written  in 
elegiac  couplets,  but  that  does  not  matter — has  more 
life  in  it  than  any  of  them.  If  his  verse  is  frequently 
odd,  it  is  seldom  dull.  Their  verse  is  not  so  brilliant, 
or  even  so  correct,  that  they  need  complain  of  being 
slighted. 

Ermoldus  belonged  to  the  court  of  Pippin  of  Aqui- 
taine,  and  fell  under  the  displeasure  of  Pippin's  father, 
the  Emperor  Lewis.  The  poem  De  gestis  Ludovici 
Ccesaris,^  written  about  827,  was  intended  to  make 
his  peace.  It  touches  on  the  same  subjects  as  after- 
wards fell  to  one  of  the  most  famous  of  the  chansons 
de  geste :  the  Coronemcns  Loois  in  the  cycle  of  William 
of  Orange.  "William  himself  appears  in  Ermoldus,  and 
with  his  epic  character,  as  a  champion  against  the 
Infidels.  The  siege  of  Barcelona  (a  Moorish  city) 
in  the  First  Book  of  Ermoldus  conforms  in  all  respects 
to  the  sound  rules  of  epic.  It  sometimes  uses  language 
that   might   almost   pass  for  a  translation   from   old 

1  P.  Lat.  Carol,  i.  392.  2  j^^icl.,  ii.  1. 


15G        EUllOPEAN    LITERATURE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

Frencli  verse  or  prose ;  the  commonplace  of  the  sweet 
Spring  season,  wlien  trees  burgeon  and  flowers  breathe 
odour,  and  kings  go  out  to  defend  their  marches: — 

"Tempore  vernali  cum  rus  tepefacta  viiescit, 
Bruinaque  sidereo  rore  fugante  fugit, 
Pristinus  ablatos  remeans  fert  annus  oclores, 
Atque  humore  novo  fluctuat  herba  recens, 
Regui  jura  movent  renovanique  solentia  reges : 
Quisque  suos  fines  ut  tueantur  adit."i 

The  style  is  a  strange  combination  of  the  usual 
awkwardness  and  quaintness  of  mediaeval  Latin  with 
a  very  successful  daring  in  the  employment  of 
classical  diction.  The  author  in  his  prelude,  like 
Milton,  disclaims  the  heathen  deities: — 

"Nee  rogo  Pierides  nee  Phoebi  tramite  limen 
Ingrediar  eapturus  openi  nee  Apollinis  almi, 
Talia  cum  facerent  quos  vana  peritia  lusit 
Horridus  et  teter  depressit  corda  Vehemoth." 

The  influence  of  the  Muses,  whatever  may  be  the 
case  with  "  Vehemoth,"  is  probably  absent  from  such 
a  line  as 

"Namque  unum  fateor  cogor  tibi  dicere  Vilhelm;" 
or 

"Nempe  sonat  Hluto  2^r£eclaium,  Wicgch  quoque  Mars  est" 

— an  interpretation  of  the  Teutonic  words  that  com- 
pound the  name  of  Ludowick.  But  for  all  that, 
Ermoldus  was  a  quick-witted  student  of  Latin  poetry, 
and  his  epic  similes,  beginning  with  "ac  veluti," 
are  sucli  as  no  vernacular  poetry  could  rival  before 

1  I.  105  sqq. 


LATIN   AUTHORS.  157 

the  time  of  Dante.     Many  of  thein  are  taken  from 
the   birds,  and    are    of   the   genuine    Homeric   kind: 
thrushes  settling  on  the  vintage  in  autumn,  and  re- 
fusing  to   be   scared   by   the   cymbal   of    the    vexed 
husbandman  (Ermoklus  belonged  to  Aquitaine) ;  birds 
shrieking  after  the  hawk  which  has   carried  one  of 
their  party  away;  ducks  hiding  from  an  eagle  in  the 
water-weeds  and  the  mud.     Quite  as  much  as  in  the 
similes,  Ermoldus   shows  his  power   in   the  way  he 
tells  his  stories.      The  siege  of   Barcelona  is  not   a 
conventional   heroic   piece,   like   the   battle    passages 
made  to  order  in  the  regular  epics.     The  motive  is 
not  literary   ambition,  but  a  more  simple  pleasure; 
Ermoldus  is  the  chronicler  of  things  not  yet  written 
down  but  current  orally : — 

"Sed  qiiee  fama  recens  stupidas  pervexit  ad  aures 
Incipiam  canere,  caetera  linquo  catis." 

The  adventures  of  Barcelona  make  a  story  distinct 
from  others  of  the  same  kind:  as  where  William 
cows  the  Moors  by  his  domineering  language,  telling 
them  that  he  means  to  stick  to  the  work  even  if  he 
has  to  eat  his  horse  for  want  of  supplies;  or  where 
the  Moor,  uttering  insults  in  "bombic"  language,  is 
answered  with  a  properly  aimed  arrow  from  the  silent 
Frank  whom  he  is  assailing — 

"  Never  a  word  of  leir  had  he." 

The  best  part  of  it  perhaps  is  the  story  of  the 
Moorish  leader  trying  to  make  his  way  through  the 
French  lines  to  bring  help  from  Cordova.  He  is 
taken   prisoner,   and   brought   up   to   the   walls    and 


158        EUROPEAN   LITERATURE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

ordered  to  tell  the  besieged  to  open  their  gates. 
Before  he  left,  however,  he  had  clmrged  them  not  to 
surrender  whatever  happened  to  him :  so  now,  though 
he  calls  out  "open,"  he  holds  up  his  hand  with  the 
fist  closed  as  a  signal  not  to  obey  his  words.  William 
saw  through  this,  and  admired  the  Saracen's  ingenuity, 
though  he  bore  him  a  grudge  for  it. 

There  is  nothing  in  the  later  books  quite  as  good 
as  the  siege  of  Barcelona,  but  they  are  full  of  matter 
— the  crowning  of  Lewis  in  the  second  book,  a  Breton 
war  in  the  third,  and  a  wager  of  battle  fought  on 
liorseback  at  Aix,  in  a  manner  unusual  among  the 
Franks.  The  fourth  book  tells  of  the  conversion  of 
Harald  the  Dane,  and  his  visit  to  Lewis  on  the  Ehine. 
The  church  at  Ingelheim  leads  the  poet  to  indulge, 
like  Dante  and  Chaucer,  in  descriptions  of  pictures. 
There  are  fewer  similes  than  in  the  first  book,  but 
one  in  the  second  is  vivid  enough:  the  good  im- 
pression made  by  the  French  envoy  on  the  Breton 
king  Murman  is  spoilt  by  the  Breton's  insidious  wife, 
as  a  shepherd's  fire  in  the  forest  in  winter  is  quenched 
by  a  thunderstorm  with  hail  and  rain. 

Er  mold  us  wrote  besides  a  suppliant  poem  from  his 
exile  in  Strassburg,  imitating  that  of  Theodulfus  to 
Modoin;^  his  Thalia,  his  Muse,  petitions  for  him,  and 
there  is  a  pleasant  contention  of  the  Vosges  and  the 
Pthine,  which  of  them  does  most  good  to  the  land 
lying  between  them. 

Two  historical  poets  belonging  to  the  end  of  the 
ninth     century    may    here    be     named    along    with 

^  See  p.  154  above. 


LATIN   AUTHORS.  159 

Ermoldus  Nigellus~the  "Saxon  Poet"  (Poeta  Saxo) 
who  wrote  about  Cliarlemagne,^  and  Abbo,  the   his- 
torian of  the  sieoe  of  Paris.^    Abbo's  verse 
^660.       ,  . 

IS  funnier   than    Ermoldus,   with   some  of 

the  same  practices,  but  with  a  larger  share  of  the 
*'  Hisperic "  vocabulary,  and  much  more  complacency 
in  his  own  work.  His  tastes  are  those  of  Aid  helm, 
degraded ;  among  the  things  he  most  admires  are  the 
terms  of  prosody — episinalijfa  he  writes  on  the  margin, 
to  call  attention  to  an  artful  thing  in  his  verse. 
Friends  of  the  Eenaissance,  Protestant  orators,  and 
others  who  wish  to  show  up  the  Middle  Ages,  will 
find  the  poem  of  Abbo  sufhcient  for  their  purpose.  It 
is  thoroughly  enjoyable. 

The  more  scholarly  Latin  verse  is  used  by  a 
number  of  authors  in  the  ninth  century  after  the 
flourisliing  days  (c.  809  -  849)  of  Alcuin  and  his 
friends.  Walafrid  Strabo  at  Pteichenau,  who  carries 
on  the  educational  work  of  Alcuin,  resembles  him 
Walafrid  ^^^o  lu  his  historical  and  his  occasional 
strabo.  poems.^  Among  the  first  is  a  rendering  of 
the  Vision  of  Wettin,^  and  a  Life  of  St  Blathmac  of 
lona.  The  ruin  of  lona  in  a  Viking  invasion  (825)  had 
sent  many  Scots  to  take  refuge  under  the  Alps,  and 
the  Holy  Island  was  celebrated  there : — 

"Insula  Pictorum  quaedam  monstratur  in  oris 
Fluctivago  suspensa  salo  cognominis  Eo." 

The  best  of  the  lighter  poems  is  Hortuhis,  a  series  of 
short  hexameter  pieces,  describing  the  plants  of  his 

^  P.  Lat.  Carol,  y  iv.  1,  ed.  P.  von  Winterfeld. 

?  Jbid.,  iv.  72.         3  Ibid.,  ii.  259.         ^  Already  mentioned,  p.  71. 


160        EUROPEAN   LITERATURE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

garden,  dedicated  to  Griinald  of  St  Gall.  Elsewhere 
Walafrid  uses  a  more  pompous  diction  in  honour 
of  great  personages,  such  as  the  Empress  Judith  and 
her  son  Charles. 

The  chief  Latin   poet  in  the  middle  of  the  ninth 

century    was    Sednlius    Scottus,    a    wandering    Irish 

scholar,  named,  like  many  of  his  country- 

Sedulius  Scottus.  i      '  /-i  i     •      •  /-^ 

men,  after  the  Christian  poet  whose  Car- 
men Paschal e  was  in  the  hands  of  every  schoolboy. 
Sedulius  the  Irishman  has  left  traces  of  his  work  in 
many  quarters,  including  a  Greek  Psalter  written  by 
his  Imnd.  His  poems,^  of  the  familiar  occasional  sort, 
are  distinguished  by  something  personal  and  charac- 
teristic. He  does  not  forget  his  own  land ;  victories  of 
the  Irish  over  the  Northmen  are  recorded ;  he  knows 
something  of  Wales,  also. 

The  ninth  century  is  full  of  learning,  and  also  of 
theological   controversy,   but   the   authors   concerned 

are  not  to  be  treated  at  large  in  this  place. 

Hrabanus  Maurus  is  the  great  teacher,  rol- 
lowing  Alcuin,  and  doing  for  his  generation  the  old 
work  of  Isidore  in  encyclopedias  (Be  Universo,  22 
books)  and  Bible  Commentaries.  His  pupils  at  Fulda 
—  Walafrid,  Lupus,  Otfrid,  Gottscalc  —  in  different 
ways  have  proved  the  influence  and  efficiency  of  his 
teaching.  Walafrid  at  Eeichenau  carried  on  the  tra- 
dition of  Hraban,  especially  as  a  commentator.  He 
had  many  aptitudes,  however,  and  thought  for  himself 
while  he  compiled  his  authorities.  He  was  freshly 
interested   in    German    philolo-i^^y ;    he   described    the 

^  Ed.  Traube,  Poet.  Carol,  iii.  1. 


LATIN  AUTHOKS.  161 

Gothic  Bible  of  Ulfilas,  and  has  a  curious  chapter  on 
German  names.  Like  Ascliam  and  Bacon,  he  is  rather 
inclined  to  apologise  for  his  vernacular  language  :  but 
let  us  remember,  he  says,  that  apes  as  well  as  peacocks 
were  brought  to  Solomon ;  what  seems  absurd  to  Latin 
ears  may  yet  be  justified;  the  Lord  feeds  the  ravens 
as  well  as  the  doves. 

The  controversies  of  the  time,  and  their  partisans, 
are  only  to  be  mentioned  here.  Agobard  of  Lyons 
(  +  840),  in  his  writings  against  superstition,  has  in- 
cluded many  lively  passages,  like  the  story  of  the 
land  Magonia  and  the  ship  of  the  air.^  The  debates 
of  Hincmar  and  Gottscalc,  of  Paschasius  Kadbert  and 
Ratramnus,  are  not  thus  enlivened,  though  Gottscalc 
is  to  be  found  again,  far  from  controversy,  singing 
his  own  song  in  banishment.^  But  among  the  theo- 
logical autliors  there  is  one,  not  any  less  technical 
indeed,  but  technical  in  a  new  way,  a  great  speculative 
genius,  whose  style  is  something  different  from  the 
conventional  phrase  of  the  schools,  because  his  ways 
of  thinking  are  difterent.  Erigena,  like  other  philos- 
ophers, causes  trouble  in  literary  history.  It  is  hard 
to  describe  his  literary  qualities  apart  from 

Erigena.  .  i.-i  i~-i« 

their  philosophical  substance,  winch  is  out 
of  our  range.  In  the  general  history  of  culture  he  is 
noted  for  his  command  of  Greek,  though  this  was  not 
singular  in  an  Irish  scholar.  His  translation  of  Dion- 
ysius  on  The  Celestial  Hierarchy,  besides  its  importance 
for  theology,  had  a  large  imaginative  influence,  culmin- 
ating long  afterwards  in  Dante's  Faradiso.     His  great 

^  Poole,  Mediceval  Thought,  p.  39,  sq.  ^  See  below,  p.  217, 

L 


162        EUROPEAN   LITEIIATURE— THE    DAKK   AGES. 

work  on  The  Division  of  Nature  ^  has  been  appreciated 
as  the  one  purely  philosophical  argument  of  the  Middle 
Ages.  It  is  for  professed  historians  of  philosopliy 
to  describe  and  criticise  it :  they  have  acknowledged 
the  intellectual  strength,  the  subtilty  and  daring  of 
Erigena.  He  was  called  in  by  Hincmar  of  Eheims 
to  strengthen  the  right  cause  against  Gottscalc.  They 
wanted  a  skilled  apologist;  they  found  one  whoso 
help,  like  that  of  the  magic  sword  in  certain  fairy 
tales,  might  be  dangerous  for  the  side  that  used  it. 
They  asked  him  to  oppose  the  excessive  cruelties  of 
predestination,  as  maintained  by  Gottscalc.  But 
he  would  not  be  limited  to  the  requisite  amount  of 
controversy,  and  before  the  Irish  philosopher  could  be 
checked,  he  had  refuted  Sin  and  Hell.  Neo-Platonist 
he  is  called,  but  in  his  case  the  name  does  not  stand 
for  eclectic  oriental  work  ;  his  mind  is  as  clear  as 
Berkeley's,  with  a  vastly  greater  and  more  articulate 
system  to  explain  and  develop.  For  literature,  the 
merit  of  his  writing  is  that  it  expresses  his  meaning 
without  hurry  or  confusion,  and  that  his  meaning, 
whatever  its  philosophical  value,  is  certainly  no  weak 
repetition  of  commonplaces.  It  is  to  be  noted  that 
he  takes  a  different  view  of  Dialectic  from  what 
sufficed  the  ordinary  professors.  Dialectic  is  not 
a  human  contrivance.  Dialectic  is  concealed  in 
Nature  by  the  Autlior  of  all  the  Arts,  and  discovered 
by  those  who  look  for  it  wisely.  The  proper  study 
of  Dialectic  is  the  study  of  Eeality.  Erigena  is 
discontented  with  abstractions.     Tlie  current  formulas 

1  Migne,  P.  Z.,  122. 


LATIN   AUTHORS.  163 

of  the  schools  are  hoc  enough  for  him,  in  his  Platonic 
quesu  for  the  Eeal.  On  the  other  hand,  he  saves 
himself  from  the  more  danoerous  temptation  of  mysti- 
cism ;  he  is  not  swallowed  up  in  blind  ecstasy.  The 
world  and  its  fulness  is  not  dismissed  as  a  shadow. 
He  is  rational,  logical,  though  with  a  livelier  and  more 
imaginative  logic  than  the  common.  If,  like  the 
mystics,  he  speak  of  the  inetlable  Unity,  he  has  also, 
like  Lucretius,  an  exultation  in  the  welling  energy 
of  the  world  and  its  iunumeiable  variety.  Scripture, 
he  says  in  one  place,  may  be  interpreted  in  endless 
ways,  even  as  the  colour  shiits  in  a  peacock's  feather 
and  there  is  this  infinity  of  meaning  because  the 
world  is  inexhaustible.  Although  he  makes  little 
sliow  of  it,  he  was  touched  in  imagination  by  the  old 
poetic  faith  in  the  Soul  of  the  World.  He  quotes, 
after  a  passage  from  the  Ti.nwus,  the  famous  lines 
from  the  ^neid — 

'•  Spiritus  intus  alit" — • 

which  were  taxed  by  Gibbon  for  their  too  close  resem- 
blance to  "  the  impious  Spinoza,"  and  Erigena  certainly 
cannot  escape  the  same  condemnation. 

History  flourished  along  with  other  learning  at  the 
court  of  Charles  the  Great.  Paulus  Diaconus  and 
Einbard  in  different  ways  attained  success,  the  one 
by  liveliness  and  spirit,  the  other  by  discretion  and 
sobriety. 

Paul  (c.  720 — c.  790),  son  of  Warnefrid,  a  Lombard, 
noted  for  his  learning  at  the  Lombard  capital  of  Pavia 
before  the  fall  of  the  kingdom,  spent  some  time  in  the 


164        EUKOPEAN   LITER A.TUEE  — THE   DARK   AGES. 

monastery  of  Monte  Cassino  after  the  triumph  of  the 
Franks,  but  was  drawn  by  the  generosity  of  Charles  to 
Paul  the  give  the  Frankish  court  the  benefit  of  his 
Deacon.  learning.  Towards  the  end  of  his  life  he 
returned  again  to  the  great  Benedictine  house,  and 
there  wrote  his  history  of  the  Lombards.^  He  wrote 
much  besides :  a  general  history,  to  continue  Eutropius, 
composed  in  the  usual  way  by  compilation  from  the 
usual  authors,  Orosius  and  others  ;  lives  of  the  Bishops 
of  Metz  ;  a  life  of  Gregory  the  Great ;  a  collection 
of  homilies ;  Latin  poems.  But  none  of  tliese  have 
the  vahie  of  the  Lombard  history,  which,  apart  from 
its  importance  as  a  document  and  a  record,  is  a  book 
to  be  read  for  the  stories  in  it.  It  is  known  to  all 
students  of  Teutonic  mythology  and  heroic  literature 
on  account  of  the  legends  it  has  preserved ;  the  myth 
of  the  origin  of  the  Lombard  race,  and  still  more 
impressive,  from  a  different  strain  of  tradition,  the 
heroic  story  of  Alboin.  The  tale  of  Alboin  as  given 
by  Paul  is  translated  and  explained  in  Co7jms  Poeticum 
Boreale  (vol.  i.  p.  lii)  and  its  relation  to  old  Teutonic 
poetry  discussed.  The  passages  there  quoted  are  of 
a  kind  which,  in  a  general  way,  is  not  uncommon  in 
mediaeval  and  other  history.  Many  historians — Hero- 
dotus, Livy,  Saxo  Grammaticus,  William  of  Malmes- 
bury — liave  drawn  from  popular  tradition.  The  epic 
element  in  Jordanes,  noted  in  the  same  context  by 
the  Oxford  editors  of  the  Northern  poetry,  has  already 
been  referred  to  here.  The  distinction  of  Paul  is 
merely  that  he  tells  his  stories  with  a  peculiar  zest, 
1  Ed.  Waitz,  1878. 


LATIN   AUTHORS.  165 

and  also  with  an  unfailing  sense  of  what  is  properly 
heroic.  Not  even  the  Irish  historians  are  more  sincere 
in  their  enjoyment  of  adventures,  nor  the  Icelanders 
more  thorough  in  their  respect  for  ma]iliness.  The 
language  of  course  is  inferior.  It  is  not  indeed  the 
inflated  Latin  of  Gildas  or  of  Saxo,  nor  the  disjointed 
grammar  of  Gregory  of  Tonrs:  there  is  nothing  in 
it  to  impede  or  disable  the  narrative.  But  it  is  flat 
compared  with  the  idiomatic  histories  of  Ireland  and 
Iceland:  one  never  foigets  in  reading  it  the  incalcul- 
able difference  between  a  conventional  language  such  as 
this  and  the  vivid,  expressive,  illustrious,  vulgar  tongue 
as  used  by  Snorri  Sturluson,  or  Villani,  or  Froissart. 
Yet  the  stories  are  there,  and  though  they  want  the 
air  and  colour  of  a  native  language  they  do  not  want 
life. 

Among  the  best,  merely  as  adventures,  are  the 
episode  of  the  sleep  of  Gunthram,  and  the  Lombard 
story  of  tlie  demon  fly  (with  a  wooden  leg):  they  are 
variants  of  well-known  types,  but  none  the  worse  for 
that. 

It  befell  one  day  chat  Gunthram  King  of  the  Franks 
went  hunting  in  a  forest,  and,  as  often  happens,  his 
companions  were  scattered  and  he  himself  left  alone 
with  one  loyal  attendant.  He  was  overcome  with 
sleep,  and  slept  with  his  head  resting  on  his  retainer's 
knees.  As  the  king  slept,  the  other  in  whose  lap  he 
lay  saw  a  small  creature  like  a  lizard  come  out  of 
his  mouth  and  look  for  some  way  to  cross  a  slender 
stream  of  water  that  was  running  near.  He  drew  his 
sword  from  the  sheath  and  laid  it  across  the  water ; 


166        EUL'OPEAN    LITEKA.TURE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

and  the  little  reptile  went  over  it  to  the  other  side, 
and  disappeared  in  a  hole  in  tiie  hill.  It  returned 
not  long  after  and  came  back  over  the  sword  and  into 
the  king's  mouth.  When  Guntlirarn  awoke  he  de- 
scribed a  wonderful  vision.  It  seemed  in  his  dream 
that  he  had  crossed  a  river  on  an  iron  bridge  and 
entered  a  mountain  wliere  he  found  a  great  treasure 
of  gold.  Then  the  squire  told  him  what  he  had  seen 
while  the  king  was  asleep.  Search  was  made  in  the 
place,  and  great  heaps  of  ancient  gold  discovered  there. 
Of  this  the  king  had  a  paten  made,  of  great  size  and 
weight,  adorned  with  precious  stones,  which  he  in- 
tended to  have  sent  to  the  Holy  Sepulchre  in  Jeru- 
salem, but  he  was  prevented,  and  placed  it  on  the 
shrine  of  St  Marcellus  at  Chalons,  the  capital  of  his 
kingdom,  where  it  is  to  this  day. 

The  story  of  Cunincpert  and  the  fly  is  even  more 
remarkable. 

Cunincpert,  King  of  the  Lombards,  was  standing  at 
the  window  of  the  palace  in  Pavia  consulting  witli 
bis  marshal^  how  to  remove  his  enemies  Aldo  and 
Grauso. 

A  large  fly  settled  on  the  window-sill  before  him  : 
the  king  made  a  blow  at  it  with  his  dagger,  but  only 
cut  off  a  leg.  Meantime  Aldo  and  Graiiso  were 
coming  to  the  palace,  ignorant  of  the  king's  designs 
against  Iheni.  When  they  were  at  the  church  of 
St  llomauus  near  the  palace,  there  met  them  a  one- 

^  "Cum  stratore  eius,  qui  lingua  propria  marpahis  nicilur."  Paul 
uses  a  few  Lombard  words,  like  this :  marhpaiz  is  the  groom  who 
bits  and  bridles  the  horse. 


LATIN  AUTHORS.  167 

legged  man  who  said  to  them  that  if  they  went  to 
Cuniiicpert  he  would  kill  them.  They  were  filled 
with  terror  at  this,  and  took  refuge  behind  the  altar 
in  the  church :  this  was  told  to  the  king.  Then 
Cunincpert  blamed  his  marshal  for  publishing  his 
intention.  But  the  marshal  answered,  "  My  lord  king, 
thou  knowest  that  since  this  was  spoken  of  in  counsel 
I  have  not  departed  from  thy  presence  :  and  how  could 
I  tell  it  to  any  one  ? "  Then  the  king  sent  to  Aldo 
and  Grauso  asking  why  they  had  fled  to  sanctuary. 
They  answered,  "Because  it  was  declared  to  us  that 
our  lord  the  king  would  have  put  us  to  death." 
Again  the  king  sent  to  ask  them  who  had  given  them 
these  tidings,  affirming  that  unless  they  told  they 
should  never  have  grace.  Then  they  sent  to  the  king 
to  say  that  a  lame  man  had  met  them,  wanting  a  foot 
and  with  a  wooden  leg,  who  had  warned  them  of  de- 
struction. Then  the  king  saw  that  the  fly  whose  foot 
lie  had  cut  off  was  an  evil  spirit,  and  had  discovered 
his  secret.  He  brought  away  Aldo  and  Grauso  from 
their  refuge,  and  forgave  them,  and  took  them  into 
his  favour. 

Stories  like  tliese  show  that  it  was  neither  want  of 
spirit  nor  material  that  prevented  Paul  the  Deacon 
from  rivalling  the  masters  of  narrative  style  in  the 
later  vernacular  literatures.  He  had  it  in  him  to 
write  a  Lombard  prose  Edda,  Lombard  Sagas  not 
much  inferior  to  those  of  Iceland;  and  it  would  be 
easy  to  find  in  Froissart,  both  in  the  heroic  and  the 
less  solemn  passages  (like  the  story  "of  the  spirit 
called  Horton"),  good  parallels  to  the  Lombard  his- 


1G8        EUROPEAN- LITEllATUKE — THE   DAKK   AGES. 

tory.  But  tlie  Latin  language,  useful  as  it  is,  and  not 
without  a  character  of  its  own,  as  Paul  writes  it, 
is  altogether  outclassed  in  comparison  with  medi- 
seval.  French  or  Icelandic. 

The  heroic  stories  of  Alboin  already  referred  to  are 
derived,  it  is  hardly  open  to  doubt,  from  epic  lays. 
In  other  parts  of  the  history,  later,  one  seems  to  find 
a  different  sort  of  adventure,  where  Paul,  like  Froissart, 
is  dealing  more  directly  with  historical  fact,  and  gives 
the  heroic  quality  to  his  composition  not  by  translat- 
ing from  any  poem  but  finding  for  himself  and  ex- 
pressing in  his  own  way  the  meaning  of  the  events 
described.  The  life  of  King  Grimwald  especially,  in 
the  fourth  and  fifth  books  of  the  history,  brings  out 
the  excellences  of  Paul  as  an  arranger  and  interpreter 
of  memorable  things:  the  imaginative  value  of  the 
story  is  not  small,  and  it  is  secured  by  fair  means. 
The  character  and  strengtii  of  the  king  is  disclosed 
without  the  arts  and  expedients  of  the  rhetorical 
showman :  it  makes  its  own  impression,  dramatically, 
from  the  time  when  the  child  Grimwald  kills  his 
Avar  captor  with  his  little  sword  to  the  day  when  his 
persecuted  rival  Berthari,  putting  out  to  sea  to  escape 
to  England,  is  recalled  by  a  voice  from  the  French 
shore,  telling  that  Grimwald  has  been  three  days 
dead.^      The    interest   is    not   confined   to   the   chief 

1  A  short  specimen  of  Paul's  Latin  may  be  given  here  from  this 
imrt  of  his  work  :  1.  v.  c.  33  :  "  Igibur,  ut  dicere  coeperamus,  Perctaiit 
egressus  de  Gallia  navem  ascendit  ut  ad  Brittaniara  insulani  ad 
regnum  Saxonum  transmearet.  Cumque  jam  aliquautum  ])er 
pelagus  navigasset,  vox  a  litore  audita  est  inquirentis  utrum  Pero- 
tarit  in  eadem  nave  consi;iteret.     Cui  cum  responsum  esset,  quod 


LATIN   AUTHORS.  169 

personages  :  there  is  a  richness  of  heroic  incident  such 
as  is  found  in  the  memoirs  of  the  age  of  chivalry, 
in  Barbour  for  example :  as  in  the  last  chapter  of 
Book  IV.  the  simple  man  (parvus  homunculus)  who 
avenged  his  lord  and  took  the  life  of  the  treacherous 
Garibald  at  the  expense  of  his  own :  or  in  the  story 
of  the  constancy  of  Seswald,  a  Lombard  Eegulus, 
though  it  was  not  for  the  state  that  he  sacrified  his 
life,  but  (more  like  a  Dane  than  a  Eoman)  to  preserve 
his  foster -son.  The  Greeks  with  all  their  engines 
were  besieging  Eomwald,  Grimwald's  son,  in  Beneven- 
tum,  and  t(5ok  prisoner  Seswald,  who  was  coming  with 
news  of  reinforcement  to  the  Lombards  in  the  city. 
Seswald  was  led  up  to  the  walls  and  enjoined  for  his 
life  to  say  that  there  was  no  hope  of  relief  for  the 
besieged.  Seswald  however  called  to  Eomwald  his 
fosterling  to  hold  out,  for  his  fatlier  was  near :  where- 
upon his  head  was  promptly  cut  off  by  the  Greeks 
and  sent  over  the  walls  from  a  catapult  ("  cum  belli 
machina  quam  petrariam  vocant  in  urbem  projectum 
est ").  Then  the  Greeks  raised  the  siege.  The  heroic 
generosity  which  is  shown  in  the  tale  of  the  youth 
of  Alboin  comes  out  as  clearly  in  the  history  of 
Grimwald:  especially  in  his  behaviour  after  the  escape 
of  Berthari  and  his  treatment  of  the  loyal  servitor 
who  had  manacled  it. 

o 

Perctarit  ibi  esset,  ille  qui  clainabat  subjunxit :  Dicite  illi  revertatur 
in  patram suam,  quia  teitia  die  est  hodie  quod  Giimualdus  subtractus 
est  luce.  Quo  audito  Perctarit  post  se  reversus  est  veniensque  ad 
litus  invenire  personam  non  poiuit  qupe  ei  de  Griniualdi  morte  nnn- 
tiavit ;  uiide  arbiLratus  est,  nou  hunc  homiuem  sed  divinuiu  uuu- 
tium  fuisse." 


170        EUEOPEAN   LITERATURE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

"  The  king  asked  the  chamberlain  in  what  manner  Berthari 
liad  escaped.  He  told  the  king  the  whole  business  just  as  it  had 
taken  place.  Then  the  king  asked  his  courtiers:  '  What  is  your 
judgment  on  this  man,  who  has  done  all  this  V  Then  all  with 
one  voice  replied  that  he  deserved  torturing  to  death.  But  the 
king  said  :  'By  Him  that  made  me !  the  man  shall  be  rewarded, 
who  for  the  faith  he  owed  his  lord  did  not  refuse  death.'  And 
he  gave  him  a  place  among  his  chamberlains,  bidding  him  ob- 
serve the  same  faith  to  him  that  he  had  shown  to  his  former 
lord." 

This  suiDS  up  the  wliole  rule  of  the  heroic  age;  the 
moral  is  tlie  same  as  in  the  poem  of  liyrhtnoth  and 
countless  other  documents.  It  is  part  of  the  value  of 
Paul  that  his  Latin  history  is  a  record  of  the  Teutonic 
heroic  age  ;  and  it  includes  in  its  course  both  the 
earlier  and  the  later  periods ;  a  period  of  Lombard 
history  corresponding  to  that  which  is  represented  in 
Iceland  and  England  by  the  Poetic  Edda  and  by 
Beowulf;  and  also  a  more  modern  period,  corre- 
sponding to  that  of  the  Sagas  in  Iceland,  tliat  of 
the  Maldon  poem  in  England,  where  the  ethics  of 
the  old  heroic  poetry  are  proved  to  be  applicable  in 
real  life,  or  what  is  thought  of  as  real.  Eroissart 
is  in  the  same  position  with  regard  to  the  heroic  ideal 
and  the  actual  life  of  his  own  time  or  near  his  own 
time.  He  has  in  his  mind  the  doctrine  of  old  Erench 
epic,  as  Paulus  Diaconus  lias  the  Teutonic  theory  of 
honour:  he  finds  it  available  for  things  that  really 
liappen,  the  old  motives  still  working  in  the  minds  of 
living  men.  So  Paulus  Diaconus,  without  any  forcing 
of  the  matter  or  any  unfair  adulteration  of  the  facts 
before  him,  finds  the  story  of  the  more  recent  things 


LATIN   AUTHOIiS,  171 

in  Lombard  history  shaping  in^o  soiYietliing  oi  tlie 
same  fashion  as  the  earlier.  It  is  an  historical 
achievement  of  some  note  to  have  put  so  mucli  into 
one  compendious  book — a  story  whicli  if  translated  into 
Icelandic  terms  would  reach  from  the  poems  of  the 
Volsung  cycle,  or  even  earlier,  down  to  the  Saga  of  St 
Olaf  or  of  Harald  Hardrada;  if  into  French  terms,  then 
from  the  song  of  Eoland  to  Joinville  or  Froissart.  No 
doubt  it  is  better  to  have  the  French  or  the  Icelandic 
books  as  they  are:  the  product  of  different  genera- 
tions, maintaining  the  same  spirit  from  the  first  days 
of  early  epic  to  the  time  of  later  prose  memoirs  and 
chronicles.  But  that  does  not  discredit  the  Lombard 
summary,  which,  short  as  it  is,  is  not  bare  or  abstract. 

Although  the  liveliest  parts  of  Paul's  book  may  be 
supposed  to  come  from  traditional  story -telling,  he 
was  not,  any  more  than  Snorri  or  Froissart,  independ- 
ent of  previous  written  works.  As  Snorri  based  his 
history  of  the  Norwegian  kings  on  the  earlier  lives 
written  by  Ari  the  Wise,  and  as  Froissart  adapted  the 
Chronicles  of  Jehan  le  Bel,  Paulus  Diaconus  acknow- 
ledges a  debt  to  Secundus  of  Trent  (+612)  "who  wrote 
a  brief  history  of  the  Lombards  down  to  his  own  time" 
— q^^ii  usque  ad  sua  tempora  succinctam  de  Langdhard- 
OTum  gestis  composuit  historiolam ;  and  he  makes  use 
also  of  another  short  history,  still  extant,  the  Origo 
gent  is  Lang  obard  ovum. 

Einliard's  Life  of  Charles}  in  comparison  with  Paul's 
Lombard  history,  recalls  to  mind  the  antithesis  be- 
tween the  romantic  and  the  reflective  historian,  the 

*  Ed.  Jaffe,  1867  {Monumenta  Carolina). 


172        EUKOPEAN  LITERATURE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

types    represented    by    Herodotus    and    Thucydides, 
by  Froissart  and   Conimines.     In  contrast 

Einhard.  . 

to  the  discursive  methods  of  Paul,  Ein- 
hard composes  his  book  with  a  regard  to  unity  and 
proportion;  he  has  a  definite  scheme,  lie  studies  ar- 
rangement. His  book  has  a  modern  character,  be- 
cause it  has  learned  the  ancient  rules  of  construction. 
His  biograpliical  motive  is  not  the  heroic  interest  in 
adventure,  but  a  more  self-conscious  ambition,  studious 
and  deliberate.  He  aims  at  expressing  the  value  of 
the  Emperor  Charles  in  an  intelligent  and  careful 
literary  description.  He  gets  the  pattern  of  his 
design  from  Suetonius ;  but  he  is  really  more  classical 
than  his  model,  because  he  puts  more  thought  into  his 
work  and  is  more  seriously  interested  in  his  subject. 

Einhard's  book  was  edited  by  Walafrid  Strabo,  who 
describes  him  in  the  Preface.  He  was  a  Eranconian 
of  tlie  Maine,  educated  at  Eulda,  and  sent  by  the 
abbot  as  a  man  of  learning'  to  the  Palace  of  Charles. 
Einhard's  contemptible  bodily  presence  and  mighty 
spirit  made  a  theme  for  the  other  Palatines ;  Alcuin 
and  Theodulfus  wrote  epigrams  on  '' Nardulus,"  which 
Mas  his  name  in  that  learned  society  — 

"Nardiihis  line  iUuc  discurrat  per[)ete  gressu 
Ut  formica  taus  pes  redit  itque  frequens,"  &c. 

So  Theodulfus  begins  his  poem.     Another  name  was 
Beseleel,  by  reason  of  his  skill  in  architecture. 

Einhard  derives  nothing  from  the  vague  popular 
sources  such  as  were  known  to  Jordanes  and  loved  by 
Paulus    Diaconus.      The    "barbara    et    antiquissima 


LATIN   AUTHORS.  173 

carmina,"  the  ancient  Fiankish  poems  on  the  wars 
of  kings,  were  of  value  to  him  as  extant  documents 
on  account  of  Charles's  respect  for  them :  they  occur 
as  a  fact  in  biography,  because  he  took  care  of  them 
and  had  them  written  down.  Nor  does  he,  like  some 
other  historians,  find  an  epic  treatment  desirable  for 
the  events  of  his  own  time.  The  disaster  in  the 
Pyrenees;  where  Hruodland  fell,  warden  of  the  Breton 
marches,  along  with  Eggihard,  provost  of  the  king's 
table,  and  Anshelm,  count  palatine,  is  told  with  clear- 
ness and  dignity,  in  brief  prose.  Einhard's  mind  has 
little  of  the  mediaeval  temper  in  it,  and  much  of  the 
Roman.  The  luxury  of  sentiment,  the  effusion,  the 
excess,  of  mediieval  literature  at  its  best  and  worst 
have  no  part  in  his  composition.  His  book  is  in- 
tellectually strong,  and  prosaic.  Along  with  Bede, 
thougli  of  course  in  a  way  of  his  own,  he  shows  how 
easy  it  was  in  the  Dark  Ages  to  write  sensibly  and 
strongly,  when  the  sense  and  the  strength  were  present 
to  begin  with.  Out  of  the  common  accessible  culture 
of  the  time,  the  learning  and  scholarship,  he  selects 
those  elements  and  learns  those  principles  which  are 
suitable  for  his  own  genius — like  every  other  scholar 
in  any  other  age.  The  case  of  Einhard  is  only 
specially  remarkable  because  of  the  common  prejudice 
which  believes  that  the  spirit  of  the  Dark  Ages  is 
enough  to  warp  or  oppress  native  talent,  particularly 
when  the  talent  is  rational  and  positive.  A  com- 
parison of  Alcuin  and  Einhard  might  be  of  some  use 
to  correct  this  idea,  and  to  show  how  the  same  kind 
of   schooling  leaves  the  original   characters   distinct. 


174:        EUKOPKAN   LITERATURE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

Ak-iiin  wit  II  all  his  learning  is  soft,  wordy,  sometimes 
inept :  he  could  not  attain  by  any  study  to  the  pre- 
cision of  Einhard.  On  the  other  hand,  Einhaid  could 
tell  a  story,  wlien  he  chose,  as  well  as  any  one  ;  nothing 
is  better  in  its  way  than  the  remarkable  adventures  in 
the  hunt  for  relice,  as  described  in  his  Translatio  SS. 
Petri  et  Marcellini.  The  dignified  reserve  of  his  his- 
torical work  was  not  mere  dryness  or  want  of  spirii. 

Nithard,   the   son   of   Angilbert   and    grandson    of 
Charlemagne,  wrote  the  history  of  his  own  time  ad- 
dressed to  Charles  the  Bald ;  the  iirst  two 

Nithard. 

books  come  down  to  the  battle  of  Fon- 
tenoy  (841),  where  Nithard  himself  took  part,  and 
Charles  defeated  his  brother  Lothair;  the  tliird  and 
fourth  come  down  to  843,  and  include  tlie  famous 
oaths  of  Strassbur<_^  between  Charles  and  Lewis  the 
German,  reported  m  the  two  languages  —  Teiidisca, 
Romana  lingua.  Nithard  died  Abbot  of  St  Eiquier 
in  844,  defending  the  place  against  an  attack,  prob- 
ably of  the  Danes.  He  is  a  business-like  unrlietorical 
narrator,  comparable  with  Einhard  for  honesty  and 
good  sense,  though  inferior  in  political  talent  and 
historical  art.  His  place  as  a  witness  and  partaker 
of  the  actions  described  is  such  as  hardly  could  be 
taken  by  any  one  else. 

The  monastery  of  St  Gall  had  a  great  affection  for 

stories,  and  some  of  the  most  amusing  memoirs  of  the 

TTieiv/onfco/.  Bark  Ages  were  written  there.     Ekkehard 

St  Gall.         ^j^  ^]^g  eleventh  century  succeeded  both  to 

the  tastes  and  the  liveliness  of  the  earlier  Monk  of 

St  Gall,  identified  by  some  with   Notker  of  the  Se- 


LATIN   AUTHORS.  175 

quences,  who  wrote  the  life  of  Cliarles  the  Great  from 
oral  tradition,  and  put  into  it  a  number  of  irrelevant 
and  entertaining  matters.^     He  was  an  old  man  when 
the  Emperor  Charles  the  Fat  visited  St  Gall,  in  883. 
That  visit  prompted  him  to  write  down  his  reminis- 
cences, the  anecdotes  of  Charlemagne  which  he  had 
heard    from   his   teacher   Werinbert   the   priest,   and 
from  Werinbert's  father  Adalbert,  an  old  warrior  in 
•the  battles  of  the  great  Emperor.     His  book  is  often 
referred  to  for  evidence  of  the  growing  romance  of 
Charlemagne;  it  is  the  Monk  of  8t  Gall  who  tells  the 
story  of  Ogier  and  King  Didier:   "by  that  sign  you 
may  divine   that  Charlemagne  is  near."     The  Monk, 
"slower  than  a  tortoise,"  as  he  says,  had  never  been 
in  France,  but  he  had  no  scruples  abouc  confessing 
the  glory  of  the  Franks,  in  which  all  the  nations  were 
proud  to  share.      He  has  a  description   of   Charles, 
surrounded  by  the   splendour  of   his  court,  like  the 
host  of  heaven.     It  is  significant  that  this  is  made 
an   opportunity   for   humiliating   the   Greeks;    there 
are  other   passages   in   the  same  context  where  the 
vanity  of  the  Greeks  is  ridiculed ;  the  Monk  sharing 
in  that  opposition  of   Frank  to  Greek  which  is  ex- 
pressed so  humorously  in  the  poem  of  Charlemagne's 
pilgrimage.     He  gives  from  the  life,  as  it  would  seem, 
a  sketch  of  the  fig] i ting  man  of  those  days,  a  certain 
Eishere,  a   son   of   Anak,  who  came  back  from  the 
wars  with   the  Slaves,  and  expiessed  his  opinion  of 
the  business:  "Wends?  what  have  I  to  do  with  the 
Wends  ?     Frogs  I  call  them — frogs.     I  used  to  carry 

1  Monachus  Sangallenns  de  Carolo  Magno,  ed.  Jaffe  {Mon.  Card.) 


176        EUROPEAN   LITERATURE — THE   DAliK   AGES. 

seven,  or  eight,  or  nine,  on  my  lance  at  once — spitted 
on  my  lance,  and  all  gabbling  nonsense."  The  large 
and  sanguine  heroes  of  epic  poetry,  not  strict  in  their 
ways  of  speaking,  given  to  expand  their  own  exploits, 
are  known  to  the  Monk  v/iihout  their  poetic  dress, 
and  much  admired  by  him.  Whatever  be  the  value 
of  his  history  of  Charles,  he  has  added  much  to  the 
stock  of  information  about  private  life  and  manners. 
He  is  not  an  historian  like  Einhard,  but  he  can  write 
many  pleasant  things  which  Einhard  would  not  have 
thought  of.  The  story  of  the  Brownie  and  the  Farrier 
is  an  instance — beneath  the  dignity  of  history,  of 
course.  The  Brownie  is  pilosus,  a  Bagman,  a  Satyr — 
the  word  is  used  in  the  Latin  of  Isaiah,  where  "  satyr  " 
is  now  read  in  English — ct  pilosi  saltahunt  ihi,  Is.  xiii. 
21.  He  is  humorous  and  good-natured,  like  other 
Brownies.  He  promised  to  fill  the  smith's  bottle 
with  wine,  if  he  would  only  give  him  leave  to  play 
about  in  the  workshop  and  not  vex  him  with  the  sign 
of  the  cross.  The  smith  consented,  and  the  Brownie 
kept  his  bargain,  going  for  wine  to  the  cellar  of  a 
miserly  bishop,  and  wasting  more  than  he  carried 
away.  He  was  caught  at  last,  but  his  thoughts  were 
unselfish  even  in  that  trial:  "Pity  me,  I  have  lost 
my  gossip's  bottle!"  (Fe  milii  (£ma  ijotimdam  com- 
pairis  mei  perdidi.) 

The  style  of  the  Monk  is  not  unlike  tiiat  of  Ekke- 
hard  :  medieval  Latin  in  every  line  of  it,  with  nothing 
classical  except  an  occasional  patch  of  quotation.  It 
has  something  of  the  excessive  ornament  to  which 
one   grows    accustomed ;    but    many    better    scholars 


LATIN   AUTHORS. 


177 


have  more  of  it,  and  it  does  not  seriously  get  in  the 
way  of  the  meaning.  He  uses  German  words  on 
occasion,  e.g.,  minima  meisa,  "the  smallest  titmouse"  ; 
but  his  grammar  is  not  unreasonable:  the  Latm  of 
St  Gall  under  Abbot  Grimald  and  Abbot  Hartmuot 
might  be  familiar  and  careless  enough,  but  it  was  a 
different  thing  from  the  decrepit  grammar  of  Gregory 

of  Tours. 

Asser's  Life  of  King  Alfred  was  written  about  the 
same  time;  a  work  regarding  which  there  are  many 
disputes,  historical  and  critical ;  to  be  noted 
^''''''       here  as  another  example  of  florid  Latin  en- 
casing much  good  plain  sense.'* 

The  tenth  century,  the  period  of  the  Saxon  Em- 
perors, is  perhaps  less  scholarly  than  the  time  of 
Charlemagne,  but  the  name  of  Gerbert  at  the  end  of 
it  proves  that  nothing  had  been  lost  through  political 
distractions.  And  the  Latin  writers  of  tlie  tenth 
century,  especially  the  historians,  are  full  of  interest- 
ing matter. 

The  family  of  Otho  the  Great  was  fond  of  learning: 
his  brother  Bruno  reading  Latin  comedies  "  for  style  "  ; 
his  nieces  Gerberg,  Abbess  of  Gandersheim,  and 
Hadwig,  the  capricious  great  lady  of  the  Hohentwiel. 
And  literary  men  of  dillerent  sorts  from  ditlerent 
lands  were  encouraged  by  the  Othos:  Liuiprand  of 
Cremona,  Eatherius  of  Verona,  Gerbert,  all  of  them 
were  of  strong  character.  The  Saxons  came  out  as 
authors  under  their  own   great  kings;   if  only  they 

1  Mon.  histor.  Britann.,  i. ;  a  new  edition  is  in  preparation  by  Mr 
W.  H.  Stevenson. 

M 


178        EUROPEAN   LITERATURE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

had  f;hought  of  writing  down  carefully  their  own 
Saxon  poems,  instead  of  leaving  the  romances  of 
Saxony  to  be  picked  up  three  hundred  years  later 
by  a  foreign  amateur !  Hrotswith  of  Gandersheim, 
and  WidukJnd;  however,  are  good  representatives  of 
the  country,  in  their  own  ways. 

The  long  life  of  Eather  of  Verona  i  (c.  890-974)  was 
spent  in  many  different  occupations,  teaching,  writing, 
the  practical  work  of  his  bishopric,  the 
political  business  that  made  nim  an  exile 
and  a  wanderer.  He  was  deposed  by  King  Hugh  in 
935  and  imprisoned  in  Pavia  :  there  he  wrote  his  Prce- 
loquia,  on  holy  living,  and  incidentally  on  the  profane 
state  of  the  Italian  bishops.  His  Fhrenesis,  in  twelve 
books,  was  put  together  in  a  later  time  of  trouble, 
after  he  had  been  for  the  second  time  compelled 
to  give  up  the  see  of  Verona,  as  also  that  of  his  native 
Liege.  For  the  third  time  he  was  restored  to  Verona 
(by  Otho  the  Great  in  his  Italian  progress),  and  again 
he  abandoned  it.  His  writings  are  strong  in  common- 
sense,  and  his  Latin  is  eloquent.  He  was  a  great 
preacher,  and  could  make  familiar  ideas  new  again: 
"O  quam  hie  abyssus  Veteris  Testamenti  abyssum 
invocat  Novi !  0  quam  antiquiora  recentioribus  con- 
cinunt."  He  is  one  of  the  first  to  make  use  of  fables 
in  illustration  of  his  sermons  ;2  with  all  his  pride  he 
had  something  like  Swift's  regard  for  the  ordinary 
intelligence,  and  its  claim  to  have  things  made  palp- 

1  Migne,  P.  L.,  136. 

^  He  refers  to  the  Frog  and  Mouse,  well  known  in  the  collections 
of  Exempla  Familiar ia,  and  in  Dante. 


LATIN   AUTHORS.  179 

able   to    it.      He    speaks    expressly   against   swollen 
rhetoric. 

Hrotswith,  a  nun  of  Ganders^lieim,^  oofc  her  learning: 
from  Gerberg,  daughter  of  Henry— the  Heinric  vvlio 
makes  so  great  a  part  in  the  hi'^tory  of  his 
brother  Otho.  Tiiat  history  was  one  of 
Hrotswith's  poetical  subjects — Be  Gestis  Oddonis  I. 
Tmperatoris — down  to  tlie  imperial  coronal  ion  in  962. 
Beyond  that  she  wiil  not  go — the  subject  is  too  high 
for  her.  According  to  Hrotswith,  Otho  was  drawn 
to  Italy  by  motives  such  as  have  their  place  in  the 
story  of  Geoffrey  Eudel  and  many  oiher  romances: 
the  pilgrims  brought  back  such  praises  of  the  dis- 
tressed queen  Adelheid.  Hrotswith  wrote  a  number 
of  legends  in  verse — St  Gingulplius,  Tlieophilns,  and 
others.  The  story  of  Theophilus  was  one  of  the 
most  popular  in  all  the  tongues  ;2  how  the  young 
archdeacon,  disappointed  of  his  promotion,  consulted 
a  Jewish  sorcerer  and  was  taken  to  a  meeting  of 
devils,  and  renounced  God  in  a  wriilen  document, 
and  repented,  and  was  rescued  by  our  Lady.  Hrot- 
swith adds  to  the  story,  characteristically,  the  edu- 
cation of  Theophilus  in  the  seven  arts : — 

"  De  Sophife  rivis  septeno  fonte  manantis." 

There   is   little,   for    that    time,    remarkable    in    her 
Latin  verse  :  she  uses  the  Leonine  rhyme. 

The  best  known  and  most  original  work  of  Hrot- 

^  Ilrotsvithce  Opera,  ed.  P.  von  Winterfeld,  Berlin,  1902. 
-  Several  versions— Icelandic,    Low  German,  &c.— were   collecLed 
and  edited  by  Dasent  in  1845. 


180        EUROPEAN   LITERATURE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

switli  is  her  imitation  of  Terence — six  comedies,  in 
prose.  Terence,  she  says,  in  her  preface,^  is  read 
by  many  who  are  taken  by  the  charm  of  tlie  style, 
and  corrupted  by  acquaintance  with  abominable  things. 
Her  comedies  were  to  take  the  place  of  Terence  in 
the  studies  of  Gandersheim.  But  her  themes  are 
still  love-stories,  because  that  is  proper  to  this  kind 
of  poetry  {hujusmodi  specie  dictationis  cogente).  The 
names,  it  may  be  remarked,  —  GalHcanus,  Dulcitius, 
CallimacJms,  Abraham,  Paijhniitms,  Sapientia, — have 
been  given  by  editors ;  there  are  no  titles  in  the 
original.  To  do  justice  to  them  here  is  impossible. 
No  abstract  can  describe  their  simplicity,  the  gentle 
pride  of  learning  in  them  (shown  for  example  in  the 
scene  of  Paphnutius  and  his  scholars),  much  less  the 
comic  effect  of  their  stories.  Dulcitius  stricken  wiih 
illusion,  embracing  the  pots  and  kettles  in  the  kitchen, 
while  the  three  holy  maidens.  Agape,  Chionia,  and 
Irene,  are  saved  from  his  villany ;  Dulcitius  frighten- 
ing the  watch  with  his  blackened  face,  detected  by  his 
wife,  is  like  an  importation  from  the  City  of  Laughter 
in  Apuleius,  but  turned  into  pure  innocence. 

Flodoard  of  Rheims  (894-966)  is  one  of  the  chief 
historians  of  the  century,  in  his  Annals  and  his 
Ilistoria  Remensis  Ecclcsm.  He  is  respected  for  his 
sober  methods  and  his  independent  use  of  documents. 

Liutprand  of  Cremona,^  though  not  careless  about 

^  Hroiswith,  like  Aid  helm,  knows  the  Saxon  meaning  of  her  name  ; 
in  the  p)'eface  she  is  Clamor  validus  Gandershcimcnsis.  Compare  also 
Ermoldus  Nigellus  on  the  etymology  of  "  Hludovicus,"  above,  p.  56. 

2  Ed.  Diimmler,  1877  (Pertz,  Scriptores). 


LATIN   AUTHORS.  181 

historical  facts,  is  in  manner  a  contrast  to  Flodoard. 
The  Dark  Ages  are  not  dull,,  with  Liut- 
prand.  He  has  levity  enough  to  weigli  up 
shipluiuis  of  encyclopedias  and  honulies;  he  escapes 
like  Ariel  from  all  rules.  The  accidents  of  his 
birth  and  nation  have  prevented  him  from  taking 
the  place  which  his  abilities  would  warrant,  as  an 
illustration  of  the  Celtic  genius.  Irish  literature 
contains  nothing  more  wilful  and  irrepressible.  Some 
other  historians  in  the  Dark  Ages  may  have  a  greater 
fund  of  adventure :  the  tales  of  Paulus  Diaconus  are 
better  in  themselves  than  those  of  Liulprand;  there 
is  a  greater  variety,  and  more  of  them ;  but  Liutprand 
has  no  one  near  him  in  his  gift  of  pure  mischief.  He 
has  contributed  to  the  footnotes  of  Gibbon,  but  it  is 
his  manner  more  than  the  value  of  his  stories  that 
makes  him  delightful. 

It  comes  partly  from  the  general  circumstances  of 
education  that  his  style  is  so  remarkable.  The  con- 
fusions and  the  excesses  of  rhetoric,  so  often  referred 
to  already,  produced  many  wonderful  things  in  the 
Dark  Ages,  from  Martianus  Capella  to  the  Hisperica 
Famina,  from  Cassiodorus  to  the  polite  Latin  of  the 
old  English  charters, — things  that  look  as  if  the 
whole  business  of  their  language  had  been  directed 
by  the  genius  of  liabelais  himself,  with  the  help 
of  a  committee  of  the  court  of  Pantagruel,  and  the 
Limousin  scholar  added.  It  is  of  course  an  accidental 
unconscious  Pantaoiuelism  that  has  made  the  rich 
motley  of  so  much  early  mediseval  literature ;  but 
every  now  and  then,  in  Ii eland  more  than  elsewhere, 


182        EUROPEAN   LITERATURE— THE   DARK   AGES. 

but  not  exclusively  in  Ireland,  the  Pantagrnelic  Idea 
comes  to  a  consciousness  of  itself  in  some  of  the  liner 
spiritS;  and  they  use  the  resources  of  variegated  diction 
with  a  sense  of  its  value.  Liutprand  is  one  of  these : 
not  that  even  he  can  be  supposed  to  have  understood 
how  wonderful  liis  style  is :  but  he  had  a  mercurial 
gift  or  passion  for  words,  a  vituperative  genius  not 
inferior  to  that  of  Mac  Conglinne  himself,  and  no 
ambition  stronger  than  that  of  doing  as  he  pleased. 
This  pleasant  character  is  expressed  in  the  very 
opening  words   of  his  history: — 

"In  nomine  Patri>  et  Filii  et  Spiritns  Sancti  incipit  liber 
antapodoseus  avrairodoacais  retribntionis  regum  atque  principuni 
partis  Europse  a  Liudprando  Ticinensis  ecclesise  diacone  en  ti 
echmalosia  autu  ei' t^  ex/'^'-'^oo-ia  auroC  in  peregriiiatione  ejus  ad 
Recemmodum  Hispanise  pruvintie  Liberritanse  ecclesise  epis- 
copum  editus." 

That  is  his  way:  the  oriuinal  manuscript  now  in 
Munich  has  these  Greek  spices  scattered  over  it 
in  Liutprand's  own  writing ;  the  amanuensis  who 
made  the  fair  copy  having  left  the  proper  blanks 
for  the  author  to  fill  in  when  be  revised  the  book. 
The  spelling  and  accents  are  authentic;  the  motives 
are  sometimes  intelligible,  as  where  he  is  quoting 
the  words  of  a  Greek — "fihinthrope  vasileu" — i.e., 
"huiuanissime  imperator";  or  where  he  himself  ex- 
plains it,  for  the  sake  of  the  sound.  "  Et  quia  sonorius 
est,  grece  illud  dicamus.  ASeX/Se'pro?  k6/jll<;  KovpTr]<; 
fiaKpoairdOr}';  yovvSo'fn(rTi<;.  Adelbertos  comis  curtis 
macrospathis  gundopi.slis  quo  significatur  et  dicitur 
longo  eum  uti  euse  et  minima  fide,"  ii.  c.  34.     This 


LATIN   i^UlHOKS.  183 

•'quia  sonorius  est"  must  be  taken  to  justify  all  the 
cases  wliere  there  seems  no  other  reason  for  the 
ornament.  He  quotes  in  full,  in  Greek,  the  story 
of  Jupiter,  Juno,  and  Tiresias,  "  secundum  Gi'ecorum 
ineptiam "  (iii.  c.  41)  on  a  chance  association :  the 
word  "blind"  is  enough  to  set  him  off'.  He  quotes 
in  Greek,  with  a  transcription  as  usual  (like  Panurge's 
Greek),  the  text  of  the  camel  and  the  needle's  eye — 
"eucopoteron  gar  estin  camilon  dia  trimalias  rafidos 
iselthin  i  plus  ion  is  tin  basilian  tu  tlieu/'  But  Greek 
is  not  his  only  resource.  He  intersperses  Latin 
poems  of  his  own.  He  tags  liis  sentences  out  of  any 
author  he  has  read,  Horace  or  Ezekiel.  "  Q.uousque 
tandem  abulere,  Hulodoice,  patientia  nostra  ? "  is  a 
speech   put  in  the  mouth  of  Bereugar. 

Bereiigar  was  the  adversary:  and  Liutprand's  title 
Antapodosis  is  explained  by  him  at  the  beginning 
of  the  third  book  as  meaning  retribution  to  Bereugar 
the  tyrant  and  the  second  Jezebel.  "  Such  bolts  of 
falsehood,  such  extravagance  of  robbery,  such  blows 
of  impiety  have  they  bestowed  on  me  and  my  house 
and  kindred  without  a  cause,  as  neither  tongue  avails 
to  express  nor  pen  to  write  down."  It  is  also  a 
return,  he  explains,  to  his  benefactors ;  but  the  other 
motive  is  clearly  the  stronger  one,  and  it  is  because 
he  has  this  score  to  pay  and  a  good  unforgiving  temper 
tliat  there  is  so  much  spirit  in  his  history. 

Liutprand's  father  had  been  employed  before  him 
in  diplomatic  affairs,  and  had  visited  Constantinople 
as  an  envoy  of  King  Hugh.  Liutprand  himself,  not 
long  after  his  father's  death  (c.  927),  was  brought  as 


184        EUROrEAN   LlTERATUllE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

a  boy  to  the  court  of  Pavia  and  there  well  educated. 
After  the  fall  of  Hugh  and  the  rise  of  Berengar, 
Liutprand  was  still  kept  at  court;  in  949  he  went 
as  Berengar's  envoy  to  the  Emperor  Constantine 
Porpliyiogenitus.  On  his  return  he  incurred  the 
misfortunes  spoken  of  above  at  the  hands  of  Berengar 
and  his  wife  Wiila,  and  took  refuge  with  Otho  the 
Great.  His  Antapodosis,  dedicated  to  Bishop  Recemund 
of  Elvira,  was  begun  at  Frankfort  in  958  and  finished 
in  the  isle  of  Paxos,  in  another  journey  in  Greece, 
which  is  the   echmalosia   spoken   of  in   the   preface, 

V.    SlVp. 

He  was  made  Bishop  of  Cremona  in  961,  took  part 
in  the  dealings  between  Olho  and  the  Romans,  and 
interpreted  the  Emperor's  speech  at  Eome  in  963: 
"quia  Romani  ejus  loquelam  propriam  hoc  est  Saxoni 
cam  intellegere  nequibant."  In  the  following  year  he 
wrote  the  history  of  Otho's  Italian  journey.  An 
original  manuscript  in  his  own  writing  precedes  that 
of  the  Antapodosis  at  Munich.  In  968  he  went 
again  to  Constantinople  to  negotiate  with  the  Em- 
peror Nicepliorus  a  marriage  between  the  Emperor's 
daughter  Theophano  and  the  younger  Otho.  His 
account  of  this  legation  is  another  exercise  of  his 
satiric  power.  Nicephorus  is  treated  with  the  same 
skill  as  Berengar  in  the  Antapodosis,  and  with  much 
more  leisure  and  attention  to  details.  Liutprand  died 
in  971  or  972. 

The  life  of  Liutprand  was  well  tilled:  he  saw  his- 
tory being  acted ;  he  knew  the  most  notable  men  of 
his  time,  and  had  the  conlidence  of  the  greatest.     Lie 


LATIN   AUTHORS. 


185 


took  part  in  high  politics  with  judgment  and  dignity. 
But  he  could  not  extinguish  the  mocking  genius  in 
his  nature,  the  spirit  of  freedom  which   makes  the 
Bishop  of  Cremona  akin  to  many  less  reputable  and 
equally  untamable  authors.     Among  the  most  char- 
acteristic specimens  of  his  style  is  the  story  of  the 
Frolicsome  Emperor  in  the  first  book,  introduced  in  a 
significant  way  with  the  remark  that,  speaking  of  the 
Eastern  Emperors,  he  may  be  pardoned  for  relating 
two  adventures  of  Leo  son  of  Basil,  "  worthy  of  record 
and  of  laughter."  1      Leo  went  about  his  capital  in 
disguise,  like  Haroun  Alraschid,  and  Liutprand  tells 
how  he  fared,  with  more  enjoyment  than  he  shows  in 
the  more  serious  parts  of  his  narrative.     In  his  book 
about  Otho.  though  it  is   written  with   spirit,  there 
is  less  opportunity  for  his  peculiar  ways :  he  avoids 
digressions,  and  refrains   from  his  Greek  decoration. 
IiTthe  narrative  of  his  embassy  to  Nicephorus  he  finds 
exactly  the  subject  that  suits  him.     It  is  all  his  own : 
lie  speaks  of  what  he  has  seen ,   he  has  accounts  to 
settle  with  tlie  arrogance  and  vanity  of  the  Greeks  in 
general,  and  especially  with  their  disgusting  Emperor, 
who  is  described  in  terms  that  would  have  pleased  an 
Irish  professional  satirist  and  enriched  the  vocabulary 
of  Dunbar.2 

1  Nunc  autem  non  pigecat  libellulo  liuic  res  duas  quas  eju^dem 
Basilii  filius  memoratus  Leo  imperator  augustus  memoria  risuque 
dignas  egit  inserere.     Antapod.,  i.  c.  11. 

•^  Liutprand's  Greek  is  not  exceptional.  The  Corpus  Glossariorum 
Latinorum,  vol.  iii.  {Hermeneumata  Pseudodositheana,  ed.  Goetz) 
contains  a  number  of  Greek-Latin  dialogues,  some  of  them  in  MSS. 
of  the  time  of  Liutprand,  others  older  or  younger.     A  specimen 


186        EUROPEAN   LITERATURE — THE   DARK   AGES, 

Widukind,  monk'  of  Corbey,  in  his  history  of  the 
Saxons^  is  not  unlike  Paulus  Diaconus  in  scope  and 
method  :  lie  is  writinsj  about  his  own  nation, 
he  has  the  same  affection  for  popular  songs 
and  stories,  and  the  same  kind  of  historical  learning. 
If  Widukind  the  Saxon  has  less  variety  of  narrative 
than  Paul  the  Lombard,  in  compensation  he  deals  more 
fully  with  his  own  times  and  with  greater  personages. 
His  history  is  dedicated  to  Matilda,  daughter  of  0th o 
the  Great,  and  the  Saxon  emperor  is  his  hero,  ^he 
book  was  finished  in  968;  after  the  death  of  Otho  in 
973  a  short  continuation  was  added.  Tlie  traditions 
of  the  Old  Saxons  (as  Bede  and  the  Anglo-Saxons 
generally  called  them)  are  faiily  represented  by 
Widukind  in  the  early  part  of  his  book:  at  least 
one  can  trace  there  the  ancient  German  simplicity 
which  the  Saxons  retained  longer  tlian  other  Teutonic 
nations  except  the  Northmen:  they  keep,  as  Bede 
remaiked,  a  simple   political    system,   wiih   equality 

from  a  Munich  MS,  of  the  twelfth  century  may  be  admitted  here, 
to  illustrate  not  Liutprand  merely,  but  the  culture  of  the  Middle 
Ages  : — 


epidioro :  quoniam  video. 

pollus :  multos. 

ejnthimuntas :  cupientes. 

romaisti :  latine. 

dealegeste :  disputare. 

kai  eUinisti :  et  grece. 

mite  eucheros :  neque  facile  (quo- 

.   que  MS.) 

dinriHte :  posse. 

diatis  discherian  diatin  :  propter 


diiTicultatem. 
Tcai    poliplithuia:    et    multitud- 

inem. 
rimaton :  verborum. 
tiemi  cacopathia :  meo  labore. 
kai  filoponia  :  et  industria. 
ucefisamin :  non  peperci. 
tit/mi  piise  :  ut  non  facerem. 
oposcntrisin :  ut  in  tribus. 
bihliis :  libris,  &c. 


*  Ed.  Widtz,  1882  (Pertz,  Scripiores). 


LATIN   AUTHOKS.  187 

among  the  chieftains,  and  no  king  over  them,  except 
occasionally  for  purposes  of  war.  The  Irminsul,  the 
sacred  pillar  of  Saxon  religion,  is  mentioned,  and  the 
tragedy  of  Iriiig,  who  slew  his  lord  Irminfrid  and  then 
purged  his  treason,  is  a  relic  of  some  viilue  from  the 
lost  heroic  literature  of  the  Saxons.  Widukind  had 
the  national  love  of  ballade,  though  he  made  no  such 
profit  out  of  them  as  was  made  three  centuries  later 
by  the  Norwegian  who  collected  in  Saxony  the  lays 
of  Theodoric.  It  is  not  difficult  to  find  in  his  work 
the  traces  of  popular  romance,  and  he  quotes  the 
popular  satire  of  the  ballad-singers,  who  chanted  after 
a  victory,  "  Where  is  there  a  roomy  Hell,  big  enough 
to  hold  the  French?"  Widukind  also  has  the  skill 
of  the  writer  of  memoirs,  and  notes  the  same  sort  of 
things  as  Froissart,  such  as  the  "subtilties"  of  war- 
fare, the  cunning  devices  and  stratagems:  one  of  these 
practical  jokes,  founded  on  knowledge  of  pigs  and 
their  natural  affection,  is  repeated  in  Froissart.^ 

In  dealing  with  the  principal  theme,  the  life  of 
Otho,  Widukind  is  drawn  away  from  the  attraction  of 
stories  to  a  graver  interest  more  like  that  of  Einhard's 
Life  of  Charles ;  and  he  shows  himself  capable  of 
understanding  and  explaining  the  character  and  work 
of  the  Emperor. 

Eicher,  monk  of  St  Eemy,  a  pupil  of  Gerbert,  in- 

^  "  Augebat  quoque  iudignationem  ducis  grex  porcorum  ab  Imnione 
callide  captus.  Nam  subulcis  ducis  cum  contra  portas  urbis  tran- 
sirent,  Immo  porcellum  pro  porta  agitari  fecit  et  omnem  gregem 
porcorum  apertis  portis  in  urbem  recepit.  Quara  injuriam  dux 
feiTe  non  valens  coacto  exerciLu  obsedit  Immonem."  —  Widukind, 
ii.  c.   23. 


188        EUROPEAN   LITEKATUllE — THE   DAKK   AGES. 

eluded   sometliiri"   of   Gerbert  in   his  foiu'  books   of 
Histories:  a  description  of  his  teachino;  and 

Richer,  . 

a  remarkable  account  of  a  scholastic  de- 
bale  at  Kavenna  in  980  between  Gerbert  and  Otric 
the  Saxon  philosoplier,  in  presence  of  Otho  11.  It 
lasted  too  long  for  the  Emperor.^  One  of  the  most 
interesting  passages  in  the  memoirs  of  that  time  not 
inferior  to  the  stories  of  Ekkehard,  nor  except  in 
language  to  Froissart,  is  Eicher's  narrative  of  his 
troublesome  journey  from  Eheims  to  Chartres  for  the 
sake  of  learning  (iv.  c.  50) : — 

"I  had  been  thinking  much  and  often  of  the  Liberal 
Arts,  with  an  eager  desire  for  the  Logic  of  Hippocrates 
the  Coan,  when  one  day  in  Eheims  I  met  with  a 
traveller  on  liorseback  come  from  Chartres.  I  asked 
him  his  name  and  his  duty,  whence  he  came,  and  for 
what  motive.  He  answered  that  he  had  been  com- 
missioned by  Herbrand,  a  clerk  in  Chartres,  and 
charged  to  find  out  Eicher,  a  monk  of  St  Eemy. 
When  I  heard  my  friend's  name,  I  declared  myself 
as  the  person  he  sought,  gave  him  the  kiss  of  greeting, 
and  brought  him  where  we  might  talk  undisturbed. 
He  produced  a  letter  urging  me  to  read  the  Aphor- 
isms of  Hippocrates.  This  gave  me  great  pleasure, 
and  I  determined  to  set  out  for  Chartres  alonq'  with 
my  envoy  and  a  boy  to  attend  me.  From  the  Abbot 
at  departing  I  received  no  more  tlian  the  gift  of  one 
palfrey.     Witiiout  money  or  letters  of  credit  I  reached 

^  "August!  nutu  disputationi  finis  injectus  est,  eo  quod  et  diem 
pene  in  his  totum  con.sumseraiit  et  audientes  prolixa  atque  continua 
disputatio  jam  faLigabat." — llichcii,  IJut.,  1.  iii.  66  :  ed.  Waiiz,  1877. 


LATIN   AUTHORS  189 

Orbais,  a  place  renowned  for  charity ;  and  there  was 
much  refreshed  in  conversation  with  the  Abbot,  and 
munificently  entertained.  I  left  on  the  morrow  for 
Meaux.  But  the  perplexities  of  a  forest  which  I  and 
my  companions  entered  were  not  without  their  evil 
fortune :  we  went  wrong  at  cross-roads,  and  wandered 
six  leagues  out  of  our  way.  Just  past  the  castle  of 
Theodoric  (Chateau  Thierry),  the  palfrey,  which  before 
had  appeared  a  Bucephalus,  now  began  to  drag  like 
the  sluggish  ass.  Now  the  sun  had  passed  the  South, 
and,  all  the  air  dissolving  into  rain,  was  hastening  to 
his  setting  in  the  West,  when  that  strong  Bucephalus 
was  overcome  by  the  strain,  failed  and  sank  beneath 
the  boy  who  was  riding  him,  and  as  if  struck  by 
lightning  expired  at  the  sixth  milestone  from  the  city. 
What  was  my  anxiety  they  will  easily  judge  who  have 
been  in  like  fortune.  The  boy,  not  used  to  this  kind 
of  travelling,  lay  utterly  worn  out  by  the  body  of  the 
horse ;  the  bags  had  no  one  to  carry  them ;  the  rain 
was  pouring;  the  sky  all  cloud;  the  sun  nearly  set. 
However,  Heaven  gave  counsel  among  these  troubles. 
I  left  the  boy  there  with  the  baggage,  told  him  what 
to  answer  to  questions  from  passers-by,  bade  him 
beware  of  falling  asleep,  and,  along  with  the  Chartres 
messenger,  got  to  Meaux.  I  pass  on  to  the  bridge, 
with  scarcely  light  to  see  by.  Then  looking  more 
narrowly  I  was  assailed  by  new  mischances.  There 
were  so  many  large  gaps  in  the  bridge  that  the 
visitors  of  the  townsfolk  can  only  have  got  over  that 
day  with  hazard.  The  man  of  Chartres,  full  of  quick- 
ness and  of  good  sense  likewise  for  the  difficulties  of 


190        EUKOrEAN    LITERATURE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

the  journey,  after  looking  all  about  for  a  ferry  and 
finding  none,  came  back  to  the  perils  of  the  bridge : 
Heaven  granted  him  to  get  the  horses  safe  over.  For 
in  the  gaping  places  he  sometimes  put  his  shield 
under  the  horses'  feet,  sometimes  laid  loose  planks 
over,  stooping  and  rising  and  coming  and  going  till 
he  had  brought  the  horses,  and  me  with  them,  safe 
across.  The  night  lowered  and  veiled  the  world  in 
darkness  and  gloom  when  I  entered  St  Faro's ;  the 
brethren  were  just  preparing  the  loving-cup.  That 
day  [?  Mid-Lent]  they  had  dined  in  state,  and  read 
the  chapter  of  the  Eule  'Concerning  the  Cellarer  of 
the  Monastery,'  which  was  the  cause  of  their  late 
potation.  By  them  I  was  received  as  a  brother,  and 
restored  with  pleasant  conversation  and  a  plenteous 
repast.  I  sent  back  the  man  from  Chartres  with  the 
horses  to  pass  again  the  perils  of  the  bridge  and  find 
my  boy.  He  crossed  as  before,  and  after  some  wander- 
ing came  to  the  boy  in  the  second  watch,  calling  often 
before  he  found  him.  He  picked  him  up,  and  brought 
him  back  to  the  bridge ;  but  knowing  enough  of  its 
dangers  by  this  time,  turned  aside  to  a  cottage  near, 
where  after  a  day  of  hunger  they  spent  a  night  of 
sleep.  What  a  sleepless  night  had  I,  racked  with 
what  cruel  pain,  they  may  imagine  who  have  been 
kept  awake  by  anxiety  for  their  friends.  With  the 
morning,  not  too  early,  they  appeared.  They  were 
nearly  perished  with  hunger,  and  food  was  brought 
them.  The  horses  also  had  provender  and  straw. 
Leaving  the  boy,  horseless,  in  care  of  the  Abbot,  I 
went  on  with  all  speed  to  Chartres,  and  tlien  sent 


LATIN   AUTHORS.  191 

back  my  travelling  companion  with  the  horses  to 
bring  the  boy  on.  All  ended  well,  all  anxieties 
passed  away ;  I  studied  diligently  in  the  Aphorisms 
of  Hip[)ocrates  with  Dan  Herbrand,  a  man  of  great 
liberality  and  learning.  In  the  Aphorisms  1  found 
only  the  prognostics  of  diseases,  and  as  a  simple 
knowledge  of  ailments  was  not  enough  for  my  am- 
bition, I  obtained  from  him  further  tlie  reading  of 
the  book  entitled  Harmony  of  Hippocrates,  Galen  and 
Suranus :  Herbrand  was  proficient  in  medicine,  and 
neither  pharmaceutics,  botany,  nor  surgery  was  be- 
vond  his  ran^i^e." 

The  year  of  this  was  991. 

Ekkehard's  memoirs  of  the  monastery  of  St  GalP 
are  like  a  College  history,  with  the  gossip  of  suc- 
cessive generations  better  preserved  than  it 

Ekkehard.  ^  ^  ^  . 

usually  IS,  and  also  witli  a  strain  of  heroic 
and  romantic  adventures  such  as  has  not  been  common 
in  our  Universities,  at  any  rate  for  the  last  century 
or  two.  Some  of  the  matter  of  Prideaux's  letters  is 
very  like  much  of  Ekkehard,  who  would  have  under- 
stood very  well  the  disagreements  between  a  Head  of 
a  College  and  the  Fellows,  and  could  have  appreciated 
the  humour  of  such  incidents  as  the  visit  of  Cornells 
Tromp  to  Christ  Church.  The  local  knowledge  of 
Ekkehard  is  all  important  for  his  history  ;  it  gives 
him  a  literary  advantage  over  even  such  lively  writers 

1  EkTceharti  Casus  S.  GalU,  ed.  G.  Meyer  von  Knonau,  1877  {St 
Galler  Geschichtsquellen,  in.)  There  were  four  Ekkehards  of  St  Gall; 
the  first  and  the  fourth  are  best  known.  Ekkehard  I.,  the  author  of 
Waltharius,  died  in  973  ;  Ekkehard  IV.,  the  historian,  about  1036. 


192        EUROPEAN    LITERATURE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

as  Paul  the  Deacon  or  Liutprarid.  His  stories,  what- 
ever their  historical  vahie,  are  charged  with  the  reality 
of  the  place.  His  tlieatre  is  not  like  the  vague  geo- 
graphical scenery  of  ordinary  history.  The  walls  of 
the  monastery  and  the  familiar  landscape  of  St  Gall 
are  never  out  of  his  mind ;  the  scriptorium,  the  cellar, 
the  old  men's  corner,  where  the  good  Abbot  Thieto  sat 
after  his  resignation,  all  the  well-known  buildings  are 
a  sort  of  authority  for  his  narrative;  they  are  his 
sources,  in  no  merely  figurative  or  fanciful  sense. 
They  have  the  same  effect  with  him  as  the  knowledge 
of  their  country  in  the  Icelandic  sagas,  where  the 
historians  can  rely  on  their  heaths  and  valleys  to 
confirm  the  story,  and  the  travelling  of  Gunnar  or 
Gisli  comes  to  the  reader's  mind  like  his  own  memory 
of  the  same  places.  There  are  other  resemblances 
in  Ekkehard  to  the  Icelandic  sort  of  histor}^ :  his 
bouk  is  a  Saga,  a  family  history,  a  story  of  individual 
men  and  their  fortunes.  He  does  not  need  the  larger 
political  interests  in  his  biographical  sketches:  the 
portraits  come  out  all  the  clearer  because  he  is  not 
a  profound  historian.  There  are  no  generalities,  no 
abstractions  to  deface  or  blur  them.  His  characters 
are  not  spoilt,  because  there  is  nothing  in  the  author's 
mind  more  interesting  than  character. 

Ekkehard  continued  the  earlier  work  of  Eatpert,  De 
Casihus  Monasterii  S,  Galli}  Eatpert  is  one  of  his 
first  heroes,  but  not  alone :  there  are  three  friends, 
Eatpert,  Tuotilo,  and  Notker,  and  the  story  of  the 
three  inseparables,  as  Ekkehard  calls  them,  is  one  of  the 

*  Ed.  G.  Meyer  von  Knonau,  1872. 


LATIN   AUTHORS.  193 

passages  of  median'al  liistory  that  may  stand  compar- 
ison with  anything  modern;  the  real  life  in  it  comes 
out  unimpaired  through  all  the  quaintnesses  and  awk- 
wardness of  the  Latin  prose.  The  three  friends  are  as 
distinct,  their  characters  as  vividly  expressed,  as  any 
three  in  history :  Tuotilo  the  strong  man  of  genius,  a 
sanguine  temper ;  Eatpert  the  scholar,  not  eminently 
devout,  attentive  in  his  work  as  a  teacher,  but  rather 
neoliojent  otherwise  ;  Notker  the  stammerer,  gentle  and 
shy,  except  when  the  Adversary  was  to  be  resisted. 
These  three  senators  of  our  commonwealth,  says  Ekke- 
hard,  like  all  learned  and  useful  men,  suflered  detrac- 
tion and  backbiting  (dorsiloquia)  from  the  vain  and  idle, 
particularly  Notker,  because  he  was  the  least  dangerous. 
Of  this  base  sort  we  will  bring  forward  a  specimen  to 
show  what  power  Satan  assumes  in  such  people.  There 
was  in  our  house  a  refect  or  arms  named  Sindolf,  who 
afterwards,  by  fawning  and  flattering  and  talebearing, 
obtained  from  Bishop  Solomon  the  office  of  dean  of  the 
works.  Before  this,  while  he  was  sewer  and  had  charge 
of  the  table,  he  used  to  render  disservices  where  he 
dared,  especially  to  Notker.  Bishop  Solomon  was  much 
occupied,  and  not  able  to  give  much  attention  to  details 
in  St  Gall  [Solomon  was  abbot  there,  and  Bishop  of 
Constance  at  the  same  time].  The  victuals  and  drink 
were  poor  and  nasty,  and  there  was  complaint  made, 
in  which  the  three  took  part.  But  Sindolf,  knowing 
where  the  source  of  this  heat  lay  among  these  fellow- 
scholars,  applied  himself  to  the  ear  of  the  Bishop 
as  though  to  tell  him  something  that  concerned  his 
honour,  and  the  Bishop  heard  him,  though  he  must 

N 


194        EUROPEAN   LITERATURE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

have  known  that  there  is  nothing  more  injurious  for  a 
prelate  than  to  listen  to  such  whisperings  Sindolf 
told  him  that  those  three  were  used  to  speak  evil  ot 
their  abbot,  and  had  yesterday  said  blasphemous  things 
against  God.  Solomon  took  this  for  truth,  and  showed 
rancour  towards  the  three,  groundlessly ;  they  guess 
themselves  circumvented  by  the  devices  of  Sindolf 
{Sindolfi  se  tegnis  ariolantur  fuisse  circumventos). 
The  matter  was  discussed  in  public  before  the 
brethren;  the  evidence  of  all  was  in  their  favour. 
They  ask  for  vengeance  on  the  false  witness.  Solomon 
would  not  disclose  him,  and  there  was  nothing  for  it 
but  to  endure  in  silence. 

It  was  the  custom  of  those  three  inseparables,  with 
leave  of  the  prior,  to  pass  the  interval  of  lauds  at 
night  in  the  scriptorium,  finding  passages  in  the 
Scriptures  meet  for  that  hour.  Sindolf  knew  this. 
and  one  night  crept  up  outside  to  the  window  of  glass 
at  which  Tuotilo  was  sitting,  to  listen  for  something 
that  he  might  distort  and  carry  to  the  Bisliop  to  injure 
them.  Tuotilo  detected  liim,  and  being  a  strong 
courageous  man,  he  spoke  thus  to  his  fellows  in 
Latin,  so  as  not  to  be  understood  by  Sindolf.  "  He  is 
here,"  says  he,  "  with  his  ear  at  the  window.  But  do 
you,  Notker,  because  you  are  not  overbold  {quia 
timidulus  es),  go  to  the  church :  Ratpert,  take  the 
scourge  that  hangs  in  the  chapter -house,  and  come 
round  from  without.  When  you  are  near  him  I  will 
fling  the  pane  open  and  take  him  by  the  hair  and  pull 
him  inwards.  Do  you,  my  soul,  take  comfort  and  be 
strong ;  lay  into  him  all  your  might  with  the  scourge, 


LATIN  AUTHORS.  195 

and  take  vengeance  for  God  on  him."  Eatpert  was 
never  too  lenient  in  his  discipline,  and  went  out  quietly, 
took  the  scourge,  and  ran ;  and  when  Sindolf  was  held 
fast  by  the  head  and  drawn  inward,  dealt  a  storm  of 
scourging  from  behind.  Sindolf  fought  and  spurned, 
and  caught  the  scourge  in  his  hands :  Eatpert  caught 
up  a  stick  that  lay  handy,  and  continued  his  strenuous 
strokes.  Sindolf  thought  it  no  time  for  silence,  and 
after  begging  for  mercy  in  vain,  cried  out  with  a  loud 
voice.  Some  of  the  brethren  came  with  lights,  amazed 
at  the  voice  at  that  unwonted  hour,  and  asked  what 
it  meant.  Tuotilo  kept  repeating,  I  have  hold  of  the 
Devil,  and  asked  them  to  bring  a  light  that  he  might  see 
in  what  shape  he  appeared.  Then  Sindolf's  unwilling 
head  was  turned  this  way  and  that  for  the  brethren 
to  see.  Can  it  he  Sindolf^  asked  Tuotilo:  and  when 
the  brethren  answered  that  it  was  he  indeed,  and 
begged  him  to  be  released,  let  him  go,  saying :  Wretch 
that  I  am,  to  have  laid  hands  on  the  aitricidar  friend  of 
the  Bishop !  Eatpertus,  meantime,  had  withdrawn. 
Nor  could  the  sufferer  tell  from  whom  his  lashings 
came.  Some  asked  Tuotilo  where  Notker  and  Eatpert 
had  gone.  Both,  said  he,  ivhen  they  had  wind  of  the 
Devil  loent  to  do  the  work  of  God,  and  left  me  alone  to 
deal  with  the  walker  in  darkness.  But  know  ye  all,  it 
vjas  an  angel  of  God  that  luith  his  oivn  hand  dealt  the 
scourgings. 

However,  there  was  debate  on  this  matter  in  the 
brotherhood. 

The  three  friends  are  well  known  in  literary  history, 
but  it  will  be  seen  that  Ekkehard  has  other  things  to 


196        EUROPEAN   LITERATURE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

tell  of  til  em  besides  the  facts,  to  which  he  gives  proper 
weisfht,  that  Notker  was  the  famous  author  of  the 
Sequences,  and  that  Tuotilo,  scholar,  artist,  and  musician, 
taught  gentlemen's  sons  the  flute,  when  he  had  leisure 
for  it. 

Ekkehard  is  so  good  that  it  is  scarcely  possible  for 
any  modern  rendering  to  take  his  place.  Even 
Carlyle  could  hardly  have  done  for  him  what  he  did 
for  Jocelin  of  Brakelonde;  because  in  Ekkehard  the 
imaginative  work  is  done  already.  Scheffel's  historical 
novel,  the  hero  of  which  is  the  elder  Ekkehard,  the 
Dean,  the  author  of  Waltharius,  is  almost  all  derived 
from  the  younger  Ekkehard's  Memoirs,  and  not  with- 
out success.  But  no  one  who  knows  the  original  can 
think  of  the  novel  as  anything  but  a  dilution  of  it. 

There  is  no  room  here  for  the  variety  of  the  book, 
and  no  summary  can  represent  it.  There  are  two 
sections  of  it  which  may  perhaps  be  preferred  to  all 
the  others,  after  that  of  Notker  and  his  two  friends. 
These  are  the  account  of  the  Hungarian  invasion,  and 
the  scenes  at  the  Hoheutwiel,  the  castle  of  the  accom- 
plished and  rather  dangerous  Duchess  Hadwig.  The 
Hungarians  are  thought  by  some  to  have  influenced 
the  poem  of  Waltharius  ;  it  is  not  improbable  that  the 
revels  at  the  court  of  Attila  in  the  poem  may  have 
been  drawn  from  the  experience  of  St  Gall  when  the 
Hungarians  were  there.  Ekkehard's  account  is  one 
of  the  most  humorous  things  in  medifeval  literature, 
describing  particularly  tlie  adventures  of  an  obstinate 
monk  Heribald,  who  refused  to  leave  the  monastery 
when  the  monks  went  to  a  fortress.      The  chamber- 


LATIN   AUTHORS.  197 

lain  has  not  given  me  my  sJwe-kather  for  this  year, 
and  I  ivill  riot  move.  The  Hungarians  were  good- 
natured  ogres.  Heribald  cried  out  to  them  to  stop 
when  they  were  breaking  the  cellar-door:  "What  are 
we  to  drink  when  you  are  gone  away  ? "  At  which 
they  laughed  and  spared  the  cellar,  to  the  great 
surprise  of  the  Abbot  when  he  returned.  They  had 
plenty  of  drink  otherwise,  and  used  to  give  it  kindly 
to  Heribald.  -His  account  of  them  dwelt  most  on 
their  kindness  and  their  want  of  the  monastic  virtues. 
"They  would  talk  in  church,  and  when  I  warned  them 
not  to  make  a  noise,  they  beat  me :  then  they  were 
sorry,  and  gave  me  wine  to  make  up  for  it ;  more  than 
any  of  you  would  have  done,"  said  Heribald. 

Hadwig,  v>'ido\v  of  Burchard,  Duke  of  Swabia,  niece 
of  Otho  the  Great,  daughter  of  Henry  of  Bavaria,  is 
more  like  a  scholarly  lady  of  the  sixteenth  century 
(Queen  Elizabeth,  for  example)  than  the  heroines  of  the 
Middle  A2;es.  She  was  a  near  neio^hbour  of  the  mon- 
astery,  and  a  benefactor.  Her  character  is  given  in 
one  of  Ekkehard's  phrases,  where,  mentioning  her  fine 
needlework  done  for  St  Gall,  and  especially  the  rich 
alba  with  the  wedding  of  Philology  on  it,  he  goes  on 
to,  "also  a  dnlniatic  and  a  subdeacon's  tunicle  in  gold 
thread,  which  afterwards,  when  Abbot  Ymnio  had 
refused  her  a  book  of  antiphones,  she  took  away 
again,  with  her  usual  quick  and  variable  humour" 
{acutia  sua  versipelli). 

With  that  we  may  leave  Ekkehard,  or  rather  break 
off  this  hopeless  attempt  to  describe  his  inexhaustible 
memoirs.    They  will  not  bear  any  form  except  their  own 


198        EUROPEAN    LITERATURE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

This  account  might  well  be  brought  to  an  end  with 

Eicher's   hero   Gerbert.  a  great  man    and   the   chief 

representative  of  Latin  learning^  just  before 

Gerbert.  ^  ^  '^ 

tlie  new  age  of  Scholasticism.  His  letters  ^ 
are  those  of  a  man  for  whom  there  were  other  interests 
besides  rhetoric  and  philosophy ;  some  of  his  short 
notes  have  the  same  kind  of  reality  as  Cicero's,  being 
not  records  or  reflections  but  practical  agents  in  a 
great  revolution.  Gerbert  got  the  name  of  a  king- 
maker, and  seems  to  have  deserved  it.  Though  simply 
Scholasticus  (Master  of  the  School)  at  Eheims,  he  did 
more  than  any  one  else  to  help  the  child  Otho  and  his 
mother,  the  Empress  Theophano,  against  their  enemies. 
He  was  among  the  first  authors  of  the  Capetian  mon- 
archy. In  a  hurried  unsigned  letter,  written  in  the 
thick  of  troubles  and  danger,  he  points  out  that  Hugh 
Capet  is  virtually  king  of  France.  H  it  was  not  owing  to 
this  sentence  of  Gerbert's  that  Hugh  was  crowned  and 
consecrated  shortly  after,  Gerbert  at  least  foretold  his 
power.  The  letters  admit  one  to  a  close  acquaintance 
with  the  very  life  of  that  obscure  time,  and  a  knowledge 
of  actual  motives  and  character.  Gerbert's  care  for 
learning  comes  out  plainly  in  his  correspondence,  gener- 
ally in  requests  for  particular  books  to  be  sent  him, 
not  in  the  expansive  style  of  Cassiodorus  or  Alcuiu. 

Gerbert  is  followed  in  literary  history  by  Kodulphus 

Glaber,  like  a  hero  with  a  comic  squire :  Eodulplius 

RoduipMs     represents   the    permanent   underlay er   of 

Glaber.        medicval   absurdity   above  which  Gerbert 

rises  so  eminently ;  the  two  together  make  it  impos- 

1  Ed.  Julieu  Havet,  1889. 


LATIN   AUTHORS.  199 

sible  to  arrive  at  any  easy  generalisation  about  the 
culture  of  the  Dark  Ages.^ 

Eodulphus  was  one  of  the  unfortunate  childien  of 
whom  Eabelais  speaks,  put  into  a  monastery  at 
twelve  years  old,  not  having  then,  nor  ever  acquiring, 
any  fitness  for  the  religious  life,  beyond  frequent 
visions  of  the  Devil.  He  was  expelled,  after  he  had 
made  himself  a  nuisance  to  every  one,  and  became  a 
vagrant  from  one  monastery  to  another,  picking  up 
odd  jobs.  But  he  had  some  liking  for  books,  and 
settled  down  towards  the  end  of  his  life,  and  wrote 
his  history.  He  had  few  historical  sources,  besides 
tradition ;  and  his  book  is  one  of  the  most  authentic 
renderings  anywhere  to  be  found  of  the  average  mind 
of  the  time — both  in  the  contents  of  the  mind,  visions, 
portents,  stories,  and  in  its  artless  movement  from 
any  point  to  any  circumference.  He  has  sometimes 
been  treated  too  heavily,  as  if  the  whole  Middle  Age 
were  summed  up  in  Eodulphus  Glaber.  That  is  not 
so,  but  he  is  nevertheless  a  true  son  of  his  time,  and 
has  some  claim  to  speak  the  epilogue  at  the  close  of 
the  Dark  Ages. 

No  literary  work  in  the  Dark  Ages  can  be  com- 
pared for  the  extent  and  far-reaching  results  of  its 
The  new  forms  influence  with  the  development  of  popular 
of  Latin  verse.  La^iu  vcrsc.  Tlic  hymus  went  further  and 
affected    a    larger    number    of    people's    minds    than 

^  Raoul  Glciber  ;  les  cinq  livres  de  ses  histolres  (900-1044)  publies 
par  Maurice  Prou,  1886.  Cf.  Gebhart,  Vetat  cVdme  (Tun  moine  de  Van 
1000 — le  clironiqueur  Raoul  Glaber :  in  Revue  des  deux  Mondes,  Oct. 
1,  1891. 


200        EUKOPEAN    LITEKATUKE — THE   DARK    AGES. 

anything  else  in  literature.  They  gave  the  impulse 
to  fresh  experiment  which  was  so  much  needed  by 
scholarly  persons;  provided  new  rules  and  a  new 
ideal  of  expression  for  the  unscholarly.  Those  who 
had  no  mind  to  sit  down  and  compose  an  epithalam- 
ium  in  hexameters  or  a  birthday  epistle  in  elegiacs, 
might  still  write  poetry  in  Latin, — unclassical  Latin, 
indeed,  but  not  dull,  not  ungentle — a  language  capable 
of  melody  in  verse  and  impressiveness  in  diction. 
As  Bede  says,  the  ear  in  rhythmic  verse  will  observe 
a  measure  of  its  own,  and  scholarly  poets  will  use 
in  a  scholarly  way  the  forms  that  the  common  makers 
use  rudely:  "quem  (sc.  rliythmum)  vulgares  poetse 
necesse  est  rustice,  docti  faciant  docte."  The  most 
beautiful  things  in  Latin  rhyme  belong  to  a  later 
period,  it  is  true,  and  will  be  appraised  by  the  Editor 
of  this  series  in  the  following  volume ;  but  the 
Dark  Ages  began  it.  Also  the  free  Latin  verse  is 
the  origin  of  all  the  rhythms  and  measures  of  modern 
poetry  in  the  Eomance  languages,  and  in  English  and 
German  too,  where  they  are  content,  as  Shakespeare 
and  Milton  generally  were,  with  the  Eomance  types 
of  versification. 

There  seem  to  be  two  diffei-ent  ways  in  which 
Latin  was  made  available  for  popular  poetry.  Ir- 
regular Latin  verse  might  be  either  (1)  in  the  classi- 
cal forms  used  irregularly,  or  (2)  in  forms  not 
classical  at  all.  But  in  both  cases,  whether,  for 
example,  an  iambic  trimeter  is  written  without  re- 
spect for  quantity,  or  whether  on  the  other  hand  the 
irregular  poet  takes  a  line  of  his  own,  not  imitatini' 


LATIN   AUTHORS.  201 

any  classical  pattern  of  verse,  there  is  the  common 
feature  that  quantity  is  neglected,  or  at  any  rate  not 
treated  under  the  old  rules.  In  both  cases  there  is 
a  rebellion  against  the  Greek  tradition  of  prosody, 
introduced  at  Eome  by  the  founders  of  Latin  poetry 
under  the  Eepublic.  This  emancipation  from  the 
Greek  rule  of  good  verse  sometimes  but  not  always 
went  along  with  a  strong  metrical  emphasis  on  the 
accent,  like  that  which  in  Greece  itself  was  replacing 
the  old  verse -measures  with  the  new  "political" 
line,  the  verse  of  the  Greek  ballads.^  In  Latin  there 
was  more  excuse  for  it  than  in  Greek,  because  it  was 
a  return  to  the  natural  genius  of  the  language.  This 
of  course  does  not  make  things  any  better  from  the 
classical  point  of  view ;  but  it  increases  the  dignity 
of  accentual  Latin  among  the  modern  forms  of  verse, 
if  it  can  in  any  v/ay  be  traced  back  to  the  Saturnian 
age.  A  pedigree  of  this  sort  has  been  attempted  by 
some  scholars.^  Whatever  may  be  the  true  history 
of  the  Saturnian  verse,  whether  it  died  out  after  the 
beginning  of  classical  Latin  poetry,  or  survived  in 
country  places  and  came  back  in  a  new  form  in 
French  and  Provengal,  it  is  certain  that  the  old  Latin 
rhythms,  before  the  Greek  forms  were  introduced, 
had  more  likeness  to  modern  verse  in  their  accent 
than  Greek  verse  has.  It  is  known  also  that  the 
common  people  when  they  adopted  classical  measures 
used  them  accentually  :  "  the  popular  poetry  of  the 
Eepublic  as  well  as  of  the  Empire  was  markedly  ac- 

^  See  below^  p.   343. 

'^  See  Stengel,  Romanische  Verslehre,  in  Grober's  Grundriss,  ii.  i. 


202        EUKOPEAN    LITERATUEE — THE  DAIJK    AGES. 

centual."^  Just  as  in  English  poetry  there  is  a  con- 
tinual dissension  between  the  naturalised  French 
measures,  decasyllabic,  octosyllabic,  &c.,  and  the  licen- 
tious spirit  of  the  language,  which  will  not  count 
the  syllables  exactly,  so  in  Latin  the  tunes  of 
common  speech  interfered  with  the  strict  use  of 
prosody.  The  analogies  between  English  and  Latin 
poetry  are  striking,  when  their  histories  are  compared. 
The  Latin  Saturnian,  it  has  often  been  thought,  had 
the  same  fortune  as  the  English  alliterative  verse ; 
Chaucer  is  "our  English  Ennius,"  and  his  contemptu- 
ous allusion  to  the  older  fashion  of  poetry — 

"  I  cannot  geste  ROM  ram  ruf  by  lettre," 

is  in  the  same  spirit  as  the  slighting  reference  to 
Ntevius  in  the  younger  poet's  Annals: — 

"  Scripsere  alii  rem 
Vorsiibu'  quos  olim  Fauni  vatesque  canebant." 

Ennius  is  all  for  the  Greek  prosody  in  Latin,  as  Chaucer 
is  for  the  French  metres  in  English.  But  there  is  a 
closer  resemblance  than  this  analogy  of  Saturnian  and 
alliterative  English,  in  the  practice  of  the  English  and 
Latin  poets  who  adopted  the  foreign  models  and  did 
their  best  to  be  resfular.  Chaucer's  verse  is  not  the 
same  as  his  French  masters  wrote ;  it  does  not  keep 
the  French  rules  exactly,  and  its  graces  and  beauties 
are  not  those  of  the  French.  The  Latin  poets  wrote 
like  Horner,  as  near  as  they  could,  but  they  could  not 

^  W.  M.  Tvindsay,  The  Accentual  Element  in  Early  Latin  Verse: 
Transactions  of  the  Philoloylcal  Society,  March  2,  1894. 


LATIN   AUTHORS.  20^ 

escape  from  their  language :  in  Virgil  and  Ovid  there 
are  traces  of  the  Italian  Faun — vestiges  of  the  old 
poetical  diction,  an  emphasis  which  is  not  Greek,  but 
comes  down  from  the  ancient  days,  before  the  vates 
and  the  Camenge  had  made  way  for  the  Greek  Muses. 
Greek  metres  were  brought  into  agreement  with  the 
accent  of  Latin  speech.  One  of  the  marvellous  things 
in  Latin  at  the  end  of  the  classical  age  is  the  effect 
of  the  accent  in  the  Pervigilium  Veneris — 

-*  Cras  amet  qui  numquam  amavit,  quique  amavit  eras  amet," 
and  in  the  poem  of  Tiberianus — 

"Amnis  ibat  inter  arva  valle  fusus  frimda. 
Luce  ridens  calculorum,  flore  pictus  herbido: 
Caerulas  superne  laurus  et  virecta  myrtea 
Leniter  motabat  aura,  blandiente  sibilo."  ^ 

From  this  poem  it  is  some  distance  in  time  to  the  full 
beginning  of  modern  verse  in  the  Eomance  languages; 
but  there  is  no  difficulty  in  making  the  passage  from 
the  rhythm  of  Tiberianus  to  that  of  the  Count  of 
Poitou — 

"Qu'una  domna  s'es  clamada  de  sos  gardadors  a  mei" — 

in  which  the  accentual  effect  is  the  same,  and  the 
regard  for  quantity  equally  distinct,  though  not  quite 
so  thorough-going.  In  the  interval  there  were  many 
poets  who  kept  the  same  sort  of  measure — Prudentius, 
Fortunatus,  and  others.  In  this  particular  kind  of 
trochaic  verse  it  proved  to  be  fairly  easy  to  adapt  the 
Greek  form  to  popular  use  without  spoiling  its  original 

^  Baelueus,  P,  L.  Min.,  iii.  264  ;  cf.  Mackail,  Latin  Literature, 


204        EUIIOPEAN    LlTEUATUllE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

character  altogether.  It  was  the  favourite  verse  for 
popular  songs,  like  the  sufficiently  quoted  lampoons  of 
Caesar's  arn)y ;  it  v^as  much  employed  in  hymns.^ 
From  William  of  Poitou  to  Locksley  Hall  and  a  Toccata 
of  Galuppi,  and  later  ("  Where  the  dawn  comes  up  like 
thunder"),  it  has  been  at  the  service  of  modern  poets, 
and  yet  it  has  never  lost  its  ancient  character.  The 
trochaic  verse  is  such — so  widely  distributed  and  so 
much  at  home — that  Latin  verses  of  this  sort  appeal 
to  every  one  familiarly.  The  Latin  poets  very  early 
gave  them  their  modern  character,  by  trusting  a  good 
deal  to  the  accent. 

In  other  kinds  of  verse  there  may  be  something  like 
the  same  successful  transition  from  classical  to  medi- 
aeval forms.  The  iambic  dimeter  becomes  an  octo- 
syllabic line  without  strict  rule  of  quantity :  yet  for 
all  that  it  may  preserve  its  identity.      Between  the 

correct  verse, 

"  A  solis  ortus  cardine," 

and    the    irregular    "rhythmical"    verse,    as    Bede 

calls  it, 

"  Rex  eeterne  Domine," 

there  is  indeed  an  enormous  technical  difference,  but 
not  such  as  to  destroy  the  identity  of  type  at  the  back 
of  both;  not  even  though  the  rhythmical  verse  drop 

^  Bede,  in  his  notice  of  this  verse,  says  that  it  is  divided  into  tv^'o 
vei'sicles — that  is,  he  treats  it  like  the  "eights  and  sevens"  of  the 

liymn-books  :— - 

"ilyinnum  dicatturba  fratium, 
Hyinnum  cantus  personet ; 
Christo  ri^gi  conciiientes 
Laudes  deinns  debitas." 


LATIN   AUTHORS.  205 

out  the  opening  syllable  and  put  spondees  where 
they  ought  not  to  be.  And  here  again  there  is  con- 
tinuity from  early  Latin  times  :  "It  has  been  remarked 
that  lines  from  some  of  the  early  Tragedians  read 
almost  like  lines  from  a  Christian  (accentual)  hymn 
— e.g.,  Ennius,  163  R. : 

'0  magna  templa  caelitum  |  commixta  stellis  splendidis.'"! 

The  hymns  of  St  Ambrose  and  his  school,  in  iambic 
dimeter,  are  in  the  same  position  with  regard  to  later 
accentual  hymns  in  this  verse  as  the  Pervigilium 
Veneris  in  relation  to  later  accentual  trochaics — that 
is,  the  Ambrosian  hymns  began  by  respecting  quantity 
and  accent  together,  and  were  followed  by  "rhyth- 
mical" poems  which  neglected  the  classical  quantities. 
There  are  four  great  hymns  of  St  Ambrose,  written 
probably  about  the  time  when  he  baptized  Augustine, 
Easter  387  : — the  Evening  Hynni — 

"Deus  creator  omnium"; 

the  Morning  Hymn — 

"  iEterne  rerum  conditor" ; 


Tierce — 
Christmas- 


"  Jam  surgit  hora  tertia  "  ; 


"  Veni  redemptor  gentium." 


In  these  opening  lines  the  coincidence  of  accent  and 
quantity  gives  the  example  for  all  the  later  Ambrosian 

^  W.  M.  Lindsay,  op.  cit. 


206        EUROPEAN   LITERATUKE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

hyiniis  in  which  quantity  is  left  out  of  account.  The 
author  of  the  "rhythmical" 

"  Rex  seterne  Domiue  " 

thought  that  he  was  using  the  same  verse  as 
"  Deus  creator  omnium," 

and  he  was  right,  though  he  had  added  to  the  principles 
of  St  Ambrose  a  new  rule  as  to  quantity,  and  rejected 
the  classical  precedent.  St  Ambrose,  it  should  be  ob- 
served, does  not  consistently  make  the  accent  fall  as  it 
does  in  his  first  verses :  variations  are  frequent.  But 
just  as  in  English  blank  verse  the  regular  lines  are 
sufficient  in  number  to  control  the  rhythm,  without 
forcing  it  into  the  "  drumming  decasyllabon "  of  the 
early  monotonous  poets,  so  in  the  hymns  of  St  Am- 
brose there  is  a  perfectly  distinct  preponderance  of 

lines  such  as 

"  Tu  \i\x  refiilge  sensibus," 
and 

"  Te  vox  canora  concrepet ; " 

while  such  a  line  as 

"  Pontique  mitescimt  freta," 

where  all  the  accents  fall  otherwise  than  the  metrical 
ictus,  is  exceptional.  The  practice  of  St  Ambrose  is 
analogous  to  the  practice  of  Milton :  there  is  no  ab- 
solute rule  about  the  accent,  but  it  agrees  in  so  many 
cases  with  the  regular  pattern  of  the  metre  that  the 
exceptions  are  recognised  as  exceptional.     In 

"  Pontique  mitescunt  fr^ta 
the  word-accents  all  fall  on  syllables  which  metrically 


LATIN  AUTHORS.  207 

are  in  the  weak  places  of  the  line.  But  in  tlie  great 
majority  of  verses  the  word-accents  fall  on  the  strong 
syllables  of  an  iambic  foot;  there  are  few  lines  in 
which  the  fourth  syllable  is  not  accented.  This  re- 
spect for  accent,  and  general  agreement  in  principle 
with  the  Pervigilium  Veneris,  is  the  more  surprising  in 
St  Ambrose's  hymns,  because  there  was  another  in- 
fluence at  work  tending  to  the  equal  neglect  of  both 
accent  and  quantity.  St  Ambrose  was  a  poet;  he 
wrote  to  please  his  own  ear.  But  these  poems  were 
not  intended  for  readers  of  poetry ;  they  were  meant 
to  be  sung,  they  were  part  of  an  innovation  in  Cliurch 
music,  "according  to  the  use  of  the  East."  Authors 
less  poetical  than  St  Ambrose  found  that  practically 
there  was  no  need  to  be  careful  about  either  accent  or 
quantity;  the  hymn-tune  could  make  the  syllables  any- 
thing it  pleased,  as  it  does  for  example  in  Adeste  fideles, 
a  hymn  which  in  the  books,  and  apart  from  the  tune, 
has  no  rhythm  of  its  own.  A  large  amount  of  medi- 
aeval Latin  verse  is  really  not  verse  in  either  of  the  two 
great  classes  used  by  Bede,  neither  "metrical"  nor 
"rhythmical,"  but  simply  a  provision  of  syllables  to 
fit  a  tune,  leaving  it  to  the  tune  to  impose  its  own 
quantity  and  accent.  The  famous  hymn  of  St  Augus- 
tine against  the  Donatists,  written  not  long  after  his 
baptism  at  Milan,  was  composed  with  an  object  not 
unlike  that  of  St  Ambrose  —  namely,  to  give  the 
common  people  something  to  sing,  not  too  compli- 
cated, not  learned,  not  remote  from  their  own  natural 
language.  It  is  one  of  the  first  precedents  for  un- 
metrical  popular  Latin  verse,  and  it  is  interesting  to 


208        EUROPEAN   LITERATURE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

remark  how  it  differs  from  the  Ambrosian  form.  St 
Augustine  says^  that  he  would  not  adopt  for  tliis 
purpose  any  regular  poetical  measure,  lest  he  should 
be  forced  into  the  use  of  learned  words  not  familiar  to 
those  for  whom  it  was  written.  It  is  an  alphabetical 
poem,  in  stanzas  or  tirades  of  twelve  lines  each,  and 
a  refrain  (Jiypopsalma) — 

"  Omnes  qui  gaudetis  pace  modo  verum  judicate." 

Each  line  has  sixteen  syllables,  and  there  is  a 
division  in  the  middle :  it  is  irregular  trochaic  verse, 
longer  by  a  syllable  tlian  that  of  Cras  aniet.  Quantity, 
as  the  author  says,  is  neglected :  thus  St  Augustine 
goes  further  than  St  Ambrose  in  complying  with  the 
popular  voice.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  he  does  not  go 
as  far  as  St  Ambrose  in  respect  for  the  accent  of  the 
ordinary  language.  Many  lines  are  accentually  right 
according  to  the  mediaeval  usage — e.g.,  the  first — 

"  Abundantia  peccatoruni  |  solet  fratres  conturbare." 

But  the  second  and  the  third  are — 

"  Propter  hoc  Dominus  noster    |  voluit  nos  picTmonere 
Comparans  regnum  coelorum  |  reticulo  misso  in  mare  " — 

where  the  rhythm  is  much  less  marked.  The  writer 
trusts  to  the  tune  to  carry  it  through,  and  does  not 
feel  himself  obliged  to  keep  a  poetical  rhythm  distinct 
from  the  music.  He  is  not  under  the  rules  of  eitlier 
prosody;  neither  the  classical  nor  the  modern  rule  is 

^  JRetractationu/ra,  i.  20  :  "  Non  aliquo  carminis  genere  id  fieri  volui, 
ne  me  necessitas  metrica  ad  aliqua  verba  qua3  vulgo  minus  sint 
usitata,  eompelleret." 


LATIN   AUTHORS,  209 

binding,  though  he  has  in  his  head  what  may  be  called 
a  modern  rhythm^  which  comes  out  in  many  verses — 

"  Maledictum  cor  lupinum  |  contegunt  oviiia  pel  la." 

St  Augustine's  experiment  has  in  a  sort  of  nebulous 
shape  the  principles  of  two  different  orders  of  modern 
verse, — that  which  takes  account  of  the  accent,  as  is 
done  in  Italian,  Spanish,  and  English  verse,  and  that 
which  does  not,  like  French  and  Irish.  A  phrase  like 
Maledictmm  cor  lupinum  sounds  to  men  of  the  first 
group  like  the  verse  of  their  own  country ;  each  hears 
in  it  his  native  accents.  But  the  following  verse 
sounds  out  of  tune — 

"Junxeiunt  se  simul  omnes  |  crimen  in  ilhmi  conflare" — 

though  probably  to  French  or  Irish  hearers  it  is 
neither  more  nor  less  correct  tlian  the  other.  Male- 
dictum  C07'  luinnum  is  an  example  of  that  instinctive 
though  not  classically  regular  quantity  which  Bede 
observed  in  the  rhvthmical  verse  ;  Jwrnxeriont  se  simid 
omnes  wants  the  proper  "  modulation,"  though  it  keeps 
the  number  of  syllables.  St  Augustine  thus  gives  two 
different  types,  one  putting  the  stress  generally  on 
the  syllables  where,  according  to  the  old  prosody,  the 
metrical  beat  would  fall,  the  other  apparently  in- 
different to  accent,  and  generally  more  indifferent 
to  quantity  also  than  is  necessary  even  in  irregular 
verse.  In  time,  as  the  barbarian  languages  shape 
themselves,  and  the  several  provincial  rules  of  verse 
come  to  be  determined,  it  is  possible  to  distinguish 
local  peculiarities  in  the  treatment  of  Latin.     Thus, 

o 


210        EUROPEAN    LITERATURE— THE  DARK  AGESo 

to  take  an  instance  about  which  there  can  be  no 
mistake,  an  Icelander  writing  Latin  verse  will  often 
keep  the  Icelandic  prescription  of  the  three  alliterative 
syllables.  Less  obviously,  but  still  in  a  demonstrable 
way,  the  Latin  of  an  Englishman  will  differ  from  that 
of  an  Irishman,  and  between  Irish  Latin  and  French 
Latin  there  is  often  a  close  agreement.  St  Columba's 
Altiis  generally  avoids  the  stress  that  would  be  found 
natural  in  Bede's  kind  of  modern  Latin  •, — 

"  Alius  prosator  vetustiis  |  dierum  et  ingenitus 
Erat  absque  origine  |  primordii  et  crepidine 
Est  et  erit  in  seecula  |  sseculomm  infinita." 

In  accent  it  is  like  Baudelaire's  Latin  poem  Franciscce 
mem  Laudes,  which  is  sometimes  iambic,  sometimes 
trochaic,  never  consistently  either :  — 

"  Quern  vitiorum  tempestas 
Turbabat  omnes  semitas 
Apparuisti  Deitas 
Velut  Stella  salutaris 
In  naufragiis  amaris 
Suspendam  cor  tuis  aiis  " 

The  French  poet  has  no  rhythm  in  his  octosyllabics. 

"'  Labris  vocem  redde  muds," 

which  is  regular  according  to  the  school  of  Bede,  is 
an  accidental  regularity  here ;  and 

"0  castitatis  lorica" 
rhymes  with 

"Aqua  tincta  seraphica" 

in  the  same  poem.  Abelard  shows  the  same  indiffer- 
ence.    The  following  verses  are  intended  to  be  in  the 


LATIN  AUTHORS.  211 

same  measure  as  Pange  lingua  gloriosi,  \mt  Abelard 
loses  the  rhytbra  towards  the  end  of  each  line,  and  the 
rhymes  are  as  impossible  as  lorica  and  seraphica: — 

"  Angel orum  stupent  cantu  admoniti  pastores 
Magos  nova  ducit  Stella  metu  languet  Herodes 
Dat  mandata  magis  stulta  loquens  eis  in  dolo, 
Sed  ilhisus  fuit  dolus  fraudulento  fraudato." 

It  is  of  course  difficult  to  arranoe  the  irregular 
imitations  of  classical  verse  according  to  degrees  of 
irregularity.  Where  the  classical  number  of  syllables 
is  kept,  and  where  nothing  is  kept  of  the  classical 
rales  of  quantity,  it  may  seem  superfluous  to  look 
further  for  any  more  precise  division.  Yet  "Bede's 
principle  is  never  irrelevant  in  reading  the  mediaeval 
Latin  poets :  the  ear  distinguishes  those  who  have 
a  sense  for  quantity  and  accent  together  from  those 
who  ignore  the  natural  Latin  rhythm. 

On  the  other  hand,  it  is  easy  to  distinguish  the  new 
lengths  of  line,  the  new  stanzas,  from  the  imitations 
of  classical  types  of  verse.  Some  of  the  classical 
lines,  like  the  measure  of  Gras  amet  and  the  short 
iambic  line,  were  proof  against  any  change ;  the 
taste  of  all  the  nations  found  them  in  different  ways 
congenial.  But  the  new  Latin  also  required  new 
measures,  especially  for  rhymes,  and  the  most  famous 
Latin  rhymes  are  in  verses  not  of  the  classical  order. 
The  new  forms  are  adaptations  of  classical  verse, 
however,  like  the  hexameter  without  caesura  and  with 
internal  rhyme — 

"Hora  novissima  tempora  pessima  sunt :  vigilemus." 


212        EUROPEAN   LITERATURE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

Even  for  this  rhythm  there  may  be  some  precedent 
in  the  line  of  Ennius,^ 

"  Poste  recunibite,  vestraque  pectora  pellite  tonsis." 

But  the  ancestry  was  not  known,  and  the  new  hex- 
ameters were  practically  a  new  invention.  Other 
favourite  forms  are  more  remote  from  classical  poetry. 
The  two  commonest,  which  it  is  not  inconvenient  to 
quote  under  their  Goliardic  titles  of  Mihi  est  pro- 
positum  and  Quid  dant  artes,  are  modifications  of  the 
tetrameter : — 

(1)  "Ridet  florum  gloria,  friictibus  formosis 
Locus  in  quo  lilia  prseparantur  rosis," 

an  iambic  tetrameter,  wanting  the  opening  short 
syllable  of  each  half-line. 

(2)  "Ave  cujus  calcem  clare 

Nee  centenni  commenuare 
Sciret  seraph  studio." 

This  is  from  tiie  trochaic  tetrameter,  with  the  first 
half  repeated :  it  is  one  of  the  forms  of  rwie  foii^e 
— caudate  or  tail  rhyme,  the  tail  being  made  by  the 
old-fashioned  way  of  bracketing  the  lirst  two  lines 
and  setting  off  the  third  to  the  right  of  the  page: — 

"  Quid  dant  artes  nisi  luctum       {  p^^^  g^^^^,^  ^^  ^^^^-^^  ^  „ 
Et  laborem  vel  quern  Iructuni  ) 

"  Olim  multos  non  est  mirmn    j   ^^  Fratemas  ades." 
Proveliehaiit  Anna  virum        ) 

Another    common    line,  though   not   so   common    as 

^  Quoted  by  Professor  Lindsay,  op.  cit. 


LATIN   AUTHORS.  213 

these,  was  made  by  cutting  tlie  iambic  trimeter  at 
the  sixth  syllable,  the  proper  caesura  being  ignored : — 

"  0  Roma  nobilis  iirbis  et  doniina 
Ciinctarum  iirbium  excellentissima 
Eoseo  mart}' rum.  sanguine  riibea 
Albis  et  virginiim  liliis  Candida 
Salutem  dicimus  tibi  per  omnia 
Te  benedicimus  salve  per  stecula."  ^ 

This  is  of  the  tenth  century,  Veronese.  The  verse 
is  borrowed  from  an  older  piece — 

"  0  admirabile  Veneris  idolum  " — 

which  also  belonois  to  Verona,  and  the  metre  seems  to 
have  been  common  there.  Both  these  poems  have 
musical  notes  attached  to  them,  and  so  has  the  popular 
song  of  Modena,  which,  however,  does  not  divide  the 
line  in  the  middle  like  0  Roma  nobilis,  but  after  the 
filth   syllable,  keeping   something   like   the   classical 

caesura : — 

"0  tu  qui  servas  armis  ista  mcenia 
Noli  dorm  ire,  moneo,  sed  vigila." 

The  same  verse  is  found  in  the  poem  of  Paiilinus  of 
AL[uileia  on  the  death  of  Erich,  Marquis  of  Friuli 
(799) ;  it  is  used,  in  quatrains,  v/ith  a  refrain  ad- 
ditional, in  a  lament  for  Charlemagne: — 

"A  soils  ortu  usque  ad  occidua 
Liitora  maris  plancLus  pulsat  pectora  : 
Ullramaiina  agmina  tristitia 
Tetigit  ingens  cum  mcerore  niniio  ; 
Heu  mihi  misero." 


^  See  Traube,  0  Roma  nobilis,  in  the  Munich  Academy's  Abhand- 
lungen  der  philosophischen-philologischen  Clause,  vol.  xix.  (1891). 


214        EUllOPEAN   LHERATURE—THE   DARK  AGES. 

Another  slatiza  with  the  same  sort  of  line  appears 
in  the  poem  on  the  destniccion  of  Aquileia,  attributed 
to  Paulinas,  and  in  the  lament  for  the  abbot  Hugh, 
a  bastard  son  of  Charles  tlie  Great,  who  fell  at 
Toulouse  in  844,  in  the  war  between  Charles  the 
Bald  and  Pippin— 

"Hug  flulce  nomen,  Hug  propago  nobilis 
Karli  potentis  ac  sereni  principis 
Insons  sub  armis  tarn  repente  saiicius 
Occubuisti." 

One  of  the  most  interesting  of  the  new  types  is 
a  trochaic  line  of  eleven  syllables,  which  appears  in 
many  different  places  and  times. 

"Where  the  quiet  coloured  end  of  evening  smilps" 

in  Browning  is  identical  in  scansion  with  a  Provencal 
verse  used  by  Count  William,  of  Poitou.  That  same 
measure  is  found  in  Provence  in  the  tenth  century, 
in  Latin,  along  with  a  Provencal  burden.  The  poem 
where  it  occurs  is  commonly  known  as  the  first  alha, 
the  oldest  extant  morning  song  of  the  kind,  which 
afterwards  was  to  be  so  famous  :  "  The  dawn  over  the 
dark  sea  draws  on  the  sun :  she  passes  over  the 
hill,  slanting ;  see,  the  darkness  is  clearing."  So  the 
difficult  refrain  has  been  interpreted. 

*'Phoebi  claro  noudum  orto  jubare, 
Fert  aurora  lumen  terris  tenue  ; 
Spiculator  pigris  clamat :  Surgite  ! 

Ualha  'part  muet  mar  atra  sol; 

Poy  pas  abigil ;  mira  clar  tenehras.'* 


LATIN   AUTHORS.  215 

This  trochaic  Latin  verse  is  used  earlier  in  a  comic 
poem  on  the  abbot  of  Angers,  which  also  has  a  refrain, 
though  not  in  the  vernacular — 

"  Aiidecavis  abbas  esse  dicitnr 
Hie  iioinen  primum  tenet  hominiim 
Hunc  fatentur  viniim  velle  bibere 
Super  omnes  Andecavis  homines. 

Eia  eia  eia  laudes,  eia  iccudes,  dicamus  Lihero" 

This  belongs  to  the  ninth   century;   the  Lorica  of 

Gildas  has  the  same   measure  in  the  sixth,  if  that 

poem  be  authentic,  as  Zimraer  thinks,  and  Mommsen 

denies : — 

"Subfragare  trinitatis  unitas, 
Unitatis  miserere  trinitas, 
Subfragare  mihi  qiiijeso  posito 
Maris  magni  velut  in  pericu]o."i 

As  used  by  William  of  Poitou,  it  is  found  in  combin- 
ation with  the  trochaic  tetrameter, — 

"  Compaigno,  non  pose  mudar  qu'eu  nom  esfrei 
de  novellas  qu'ai  anzidas  e  que  vei, 
qu'una  dorana  s'es  clamada  de  sos  gardadors  a  niei." 

The  Irish  poet  of  the  court  of  Charlemagne,  "  Hiber- 

^  Compare  the  hymn  of  Gui  de  Basoches,  twelfth  century,  Mone, 
ii.  G  :— 

"Dei  matris  cantibus 

solleinnia 
Recolat  sollemnibus 

ecclesia : 
Vota  tuis  auribus 

concilia, 
Ye  devotis  vocibus 

laudantia 
digna  dignis  laudibus. 


216         EUROPEAN    LITEKATUKK  — THE   DARK   AGES. 

iii'Mis  Exul,"  niake.s  use  of  a  rhyming  measure  witli 
many  Irish  characteristics: — 

"  Ciirta  Chri.sto  comite  per  telkiris  spatium 
All  Cessans  spleiididuni  nunc  perge  palalium 
Fer  salutes  Caesari  ac  suis  agininibus 
Gloi'iosis  pueris  sacrisque  virginibus 

Die  regales  pueri  per  prolixa  spatia 
Sint  sani  sint  longevi  salvatoris  gratia 
Sint  coronee  regise  digni  die  lionoribus 
Felices  ac  victores  genitoribus  moribus." 

It  is  like  Mihi  est  i^ropositum^  with  a  trisyllabic 
rhyme.  The  iialf  line  of  seven  syllables  is  the 
commonest  type  of  Irish  verse  in  the  vernacular; 
and  this  poem  of  "Hibernicus  Exul,"  along  v^^ith 
similar  verses  later  by  Sedulius  Scotius,  lias  been 
of  interest  in  connection  vi'ith  the  problems  of  Irish 
metre.^ 

There  is  a  short  kind  of  veise  in  a  poem  of  the 
ninth  century  v^hich  strikes  the  ear  with  a  modern 
ling  :— 

"  Sancte  sator,  sulf'ragator, 

Legum  lalor,  largus  dator 

Jure  pollens  es  qui  poiens 

Nunc  in  eethra  firma  petra 

A  quo  creta  cuncta  freta 

Quae  aplustra  ferunt  flu-tra 

Quando  celox  currit  velox 

Cujus  numen  crevit  lumen 

Simul  solum  supra  polum." 

It  is  probably  Anglo-Saxon  in  origin,  to  judge  from 

^  Cf.   Ebert,  Litteratur  des  MiUelalters,  ii.   324  ;   Tliurueysen,   in 
Revue  Celtiqve,  vi.  345. 


LATIN   AUTHORS.  217 

the  vocabulary/  not  to  speak  of  the  alliteration.  A 
comparison  with  Anglo  -  Saxon  rhymes  like  hlissa 
hleoum,  hlostma  hivjum  shows  how  easily  the  forms 
of  the  two  languages  might  be  brought  to  correspond : 
while  the  resemblance  to  certain  Icelandic  rhymes  is 
also  notable.  It  is  hard  to  dissociate  the  form  of 
Egil's  Bansom  poem,  with  its  short  rhyming  lines, 
from  this  Latin  specimen. 

"Quaudo  celox  currit  velox" 

is  much  the  same  in  form  as  the  Icelandic 
"  Brustu  broddar,  enn  bitu  oddar." 

In  the  song  written  by  Gottschalk  (about  846  ?)  the 
trochaic  measures  are  in  a  way  less  regular ;  the  effect 
is  singularly  unlike  anything  in  the  old  Teutonic 
languages,  and  not  far  from  some  of  the  melodies 
of  French  and  Spanish  verse,  with  the  "  broken " 
trochaic  half-line: — 

"  0  quid  jubes,  piisiole, 
Quare  mandas,  filiole, 
Carmen  dulce  me  cantare, 
Cum  sine  longe  exul  valde 

Intra  mare  ? 
0  cur  jubes  canere  ?  " 

Gothschalk's  adversary  Hraban  has  nothing  so  good, 
but  his  poem  in  octosyllabic  couplets  on  Paradise 
Lost  and  Regained  is  of  some  interest  historically, 
considering  the  future  fortunes  of  that  sort  of  measure. 
The  Latin  poem  on  the  story  of  Placid  as  (St  Eustace), 

^  Miillenhoflf  and  Scherer,  Denhmaler,  v.  Ixi ;  Mone,  i.  365  ;  Braune, 
Althochdeutsches  Lesebuch,  v.  xi. 


218        EUROPEAN   LITERATURE  — THE   DARK   AGES. 

wliich  belongs  to  the  ninth  centurv  also,  is  in  a 
drawling  verse  suited  to  professional  story -telling, 
and  near  akin  to  much  of  the  common  minstrelsy 
later.i  It  goes  in  stanzas  of  five  lines;  for  example, 
in  telling  about  the  happy  meeting  of  Placidas  with 
his  wife  and  his  two  sons: — 

"Exivit  mater  eorain,  ivit  ad  principem 
Ut  snggereret  illi  quomodo  capta  est  : 
Dum  ad  vestigia  ejus  se  vellet  stern  ere, 
Agnovit  enm  et  collum  ejus  amplexa  est, 
Et  cum  lacrimis  marito  cepit  dicere  " — 

which  is  not  an  unfair  specimen  of  the  style  and 
method  of  this  narrativCc  No  legend  has  more  of 
the  character  of  mediaeval  romance  than  that  of  St 
Eustace,  and  few  were  in  greater  favour.  A  com- 
parison of  the  different  versions — ^Elfric's  prose,  the 
Northern  Flacitus  Drdpa,  and  many  more — would 
bring  out  very  clearly  the  differences  of  taste  in 
story-telling  all  over  the  Middle  Ages.  The  story 
of  Sir  Isumhras  is  nearly  the  same  as  Placidas,  though 
it  does  not  end  in  martyrdom.  From  the  Latin 
Placidas  of  the  ninth  century  to  the  English  Sir 
Isumbras  there  are  many  stages  to  pass  through ; 
but  the  Latin  version  has  already  the  simple  unaffected 
pleasure  in  adventure  which  makes  up  for  so  mucli 
else  in  the  stories  of  the  minstrels  and  the  less  courtly 
romances,  the  companions  of  Sir  Thopas. 

The  Seqi.iciitia,'^  or  Prosa,  which  comes  into  favour  in 

^  Edited,  along  with  other  poems  of  the  Carolingian  period,  by 
Dlimmler  in  the  Zeitschri/t  filr  deutsches  AUerthum,  xxiii. 

^  F.  A,  Wolf,  Ueher  die  Lais,  Sequenzen,  und  Leiche,  1841 ;  K. 
Bartsch,  Lateinische  Sequenzen  das  Mittclalters,  1868. 


LATIN    AUTHOES.  219 

the  riinth   century,  chiefly  through  the  school  of  St 
Gail,  is  a  new  l^ind  of  Latin  poem,  with  a 

The  Sequences.  .       .    ,  «  .  i  t  ■» 

new  principle  or  verse — or  rather  an   old 
principle  rediscovered  and  applied  in  a  new  way.     The 
sequence  was  a  tune  hefore  it  was  a  poem,  and  the  rule 
of  the  sequence,  as  poem,  is  to  follow  exactly  the  notes 
of  a  melody.     It  came  from  the  Allehoia,  which  con- 
cluded the  Graduale  between  the  Epistle  and  the  Gos- 
pel.    It  was  the  fashion  to  prolong  the  Alleluia  in  a 
"jubilant"  song — without  words — which   was  often 
long  and  musically  elaborate.     The  tunes  were  found 
hard  to  remember,  and   experiments  were   made  in 
fitting   words    to    them,   possibly   by   Alcuin   among 
others.      But    the   first    attempts    were    soon    made 
obsolete  by  the  rapid  development  of  the  sequence 
under  the  direction  and  example  of  Notker^  of  St 
Gall  (  +  912).     The  music  of  the  sequences  had  come 
to  be  studied  at  St  Gall  through  the  presence  there 
of  one  of  the  two  Italian  musicians  who  had  been 
called   northward   by   Charlemagne    to   improve   the 
psalmody.     Some  of  the  early  experiments  in  fitting 
words  to  the  sequence  tunes  had  been  brought  thither 
also,    by    a    priest    from    the    ruined    monastery    of 
Jumieges.     Notker  found  fault  with  the  composition 
of  these  hymns — the  syllables  were  not  well  placed — 
and  set  himself   to   supply   words   for   the   melodies 
according  to  a  strict  principle,  giving  a  syllable  to 
each   note.      Psallat   ecdesia   mater   illihata   was   his 

^  Called  Balbulus.  to  distinguish  him  from  others  of  the  same 
name  later — Notker,  surnamed  "  Peppercorn  "  (Piperisgranum),  the 
doctor  of  physic,  and  Notker  Labeo,  the  great  ti-anslator. 


220        EUROPEAN    LITERATUllE — ^TIIE   DARK   AGES. 

first  sequence,  and  this  was  followed  by  many  more, 
until,  in  887,  a  book  of  sequences  was  complete.  But 
the  ideas  of  St  Gall  were  accustomed  to  spread 
rapidly ;  all  the  world  knew  at  once  whatever  was 
being  done  or  thought  in  tlie  great  monastery. 
Almost  before  Notker  was  ready,  the  form  of  the 
sequence  had  established  itself,  and  had  even  imposed 
itself  on  vernacular  French,  in  the  poem  of  St  Eulalia. 

The  sequences  are  not  to  be  scanned  according  to 
any  classical  rule,  nor  yet  by  the  methods  accepted 
for  the  "rhythmical"  poetry,  as  explained  by  Bede. 
They  follow  the  melody  exactly,  and  the  tunes  of  that 
time  were  not  in  accordance  with  any  of  the  known 
poetical  measures,  either  classical  or  popular.  In 
princi^'le,  the  sequences  are  governed  by  the  same 
general  law  as  Pindar — namely,  that  words  follow 
music.  But  as  the  music  was  of  a  new  kind,  the 
words  obeyed  no  establislied  poetical  rule.  Their 
measures  are  hard  to  understand  with  only  the  words 
to  judge  by,  One  kind  of  regularity  they  indeed 
profess  on  the  face  of  them.  As  the  melody  fell  into 
periods,  eacli  of  which  repeated  the  same  notes,  the 
poetical  sequence  takes  the  form  of  a  series  of 
couplets  or  stanzas,  each  couplet  or  stanza  having 
its  own  pattern.  In  some  sequences,  as  in  those  of 
the  Northern  French  school,  to  which  the  Euhdia 
poem  belongs,  there  is  a  duplicate  series  —  sirophe 
and  an ti strophe, 

It  is  perhaps  as  one  of  the  forms  invented  and  taken 
up  at  a  time  wlien  the  new  languages  were  stirring, 
and  new  literary  ambitions  awake,  tliat  the  sequence 


LATIiNT   AUTHORS.  221 

is  chiefly  memorable.  It  was  the  right  thing  in  its 
own  day ;  it  agreed  with  the  musical  taste  of  the 
time,  and  had  the  enormous  advantage  of  musical 
support,  of  alliance  with  new  tunes  that  went  every- 
where, and  carried  the  poetical  form  along  with  them. 
It  was  open  to  any  one  to  supply  words  for  any  tune. 
The  first  problem,  "  Why  not  fit  Latin  religious  words 
to  the  sacred  melody  ? "  had  been  raised  and  solved 
by  Notker.  But  then  came  other  suggestions :  (1) 
Why  religious  words?  (2)  Why  Latin?  And  the 
result  was  prolific  in  many  ways  when  the  new 
languages  added  this  to  their  poetical  resources.  In 
Germany  in  the  tenth  century  it  was  common  to 
write  fresh  Latin  words  to  well-known  tunes — 
Carelmanning,  Liehing,  Modus  Florum, — and  it  became 
commoner  to  fit  the  tunes  with  German  words,  and 
to  make  new  tunes  of  the  same  kind  with  German 
words  appropriate  to  them.  The  Leich  of  the  Middle 
High  German  poetry  is  descended  from  Notker's 
Latin  sequence.  The  old  French  Motet,  an  irregular 
form  of  free  verse,  different  from  the  common  stanzas, 
whether  of  the  courtly  or  the  mere  popular  orders, 
appears  to  have  had  the  same  kind  of  origin  as  the 
Leich,  though  less  closely  connected  with  the  sequence. 
The  Motet,  like  the  sequence,  came  after  the  tune, 
and  depended  upon  it:  it  had  no  fixed  pattern  of 
stanza,  but  followed  the  windings  of  the  music.^ 

^  See  V/.  Meyer  in  Gott.  Nachrichfen,  1898  ;  G.  Raynaud,  Recucil 
de  Motels  francais,  2  torn.  1881-83.  The  manuscj-ipt  of  Valenciennes 
containing  the  Eulalia  poem  is  one  of  the  most  significant  things  of 
its  day  with  regard  to  the  polyglot  experimental  character  of  litera- 
ture, the  great  variety  of  tastes,  the  immense  possibilities  of  nev.' 


222        EUROPEAN   LITERATURE — THE   DARK  AGES, 

The  popular  interest  of  many  mediaeval  Latin  poems 

is   so   strong   that  they  may  naturally   find  a  place 

here,  half-way  between  the  ancient  and  the 

Waltharius.  rrii  i  • 

modern  languages.  The  chief  of  these  is 
the  poem  of  Walter  and  Hildegund,  the  fullest  extant 
rendering  of  a  famous  German  story.  Waltharii  Poesis  ^ 
was  written  as  a  school  exercise  in  Latin  hexameters 
by  Ekkehard  of  St  Gall,  the  first  of  that  name  (  +  937). 

discovery,  the  intercourse  of  different  languages  at  the  end  of  the 
ninth  century.  It  contains  a  Latin  sequence  on  St  Eulalia  ;  the 
old  French  poem  on  the  same  subject,  written  to  the  same  music  ; 
after  the  French  poem  there  follows,  on  the  same  page  in  the  same 
hand,  the  opening  of  the  Ludwigslied.  French  and  German  are 
written  by  the  same  scribe,  and  both  the  French  piece  and  the 
German  are  novelties.  Some  couplets  of  the  Latin  Eulalia  are 
added  here,   in  illustration  of  the  method  of  the  sequence : — 

1.  Cantica  virginis  Eulalise 
Concine  suavisone  cithara 

2.  Est  operse  quoniam  pretiuni 
Clangere  carmine  niartyrium 

'3.  Tuam  ego  voce  sequar  melodiam 
Atque  laudera  iraitabor  Ambrosiam 

4.  Pidibus  cane  melos  eximium 
Vocibus  ministrabo  suffragium 

Sic  pietatem  sic  humanum  ingenium 
Fudisse  fletum  compellamus  ingenituin 

Hanc  puellam  nam  iuventse  sub  tempoi  e 
Nondum  thoris  maritalibus  habilem 

7.  Hostis  sequi  flammis  ignis  implicuit 
Mox  colurabas  evolatu  obstipuit 

8.  Spiritus  hie  erat  Eulalise 
Lacteolus  celer  innocuus. 

In  the  second  part,  the  measures  of  the  four  stanzas  3  to  6  are 
repeated.     See  P.  von.  Winterfeld,  Z.  f.  d.  A.,  xlv. 

^  Grimm  and  Schmeller,  Lateiniachc  Gedichte  dcs  X.  und  XI.  Jh., 
1838;  ed.  Peiper,  1873  ;  ed.  Althof,  1899. 


LATIN   AUTHOES.  223 

One  might  expect  tlie  worst  result  from  that  sort  of 
task — incongruous  ornament,  a  discord  of  T.atin  and 
Teutonic  manners,  the  ordinary  barbarism.  But  though 
Waltho/rms  is  faulty  in  many  respects,  it  succeeds  as  a 
story.  The  (^^erman  idiom  breaks  through  {e.g.,  Wall ! 
sed  quid  dicis?)  and  the  Gradus  phrases  are  quaintly 
out  of  keeping  with  much  of  the  matter.^  But 
Ekkehard  (like  Ermoldus  with  his  siege  of  Barcelona) 
has  got  at  the  heart  of  the  epic  mystery.  Virgil  is 
his  master,  but  what  the  German  student  finds  in  the 
^neid  is  not  anything  commonly  called  Yirgilian ; 
no  gentle  grace,  nor  the  style  that  Dante  learned,  but 
the  spirit  of  battle  poetry.  Virgil,  in  fact,  is  really 
Homer  for  the  time ;  it  is  nothing  but  Homer  that 
Ekkehard  discovers  in  him.  So  Ermoldus  rediscovered 
the  true  Homeric  simile  under  the  conventional  orna- 
ments of  the  grammar-school  —  the  simile  which  is 
not  a  piece  of  rhetoric  but  a  gift  of  the  imagination. 

How  much  of  WaWiarius  is  due  to  a  lost  German 
poem  is  hard  to  make  out.  The  story  was  certainly 
given,  not  invented.  Much  is  due  to  the  fable ;  the 
story  of  Walter  and  Hildegund  is  hardly  inferior  to 
that  of  Eodrigue  and  Chimene  in  natural  dignity. 

It  is  simple  enough,  as  told  by  Ekkehard.  Hagen, 
Walter,  and  the  princess  Hildegund  are  hostages  with 
Attila  for  the  Franks,  Aquitanians,  and  Burgundians 
respectively, — Hagen  taking  the  place  of  Gunther,  son 
of  Gilbicho,  who  was  too  young  for  a  hostage  when 

1  Waltharius  was  edited  by  the  author's  namesake,  the  historian 
of  St  Gall.  But  the  later  Ekkehard's  Latin,  which  is  never  dull,  is 
not  that  of  a  sound  philologist. 


224        EUPtOrEAN    LITERATURE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

the  Franks  first  submitted  to  the  Huns.  Hagjen  and 
Walter  grew  up  together,  sworn  brothers  in  war : 
Walter  and  Hildegund  are  plighted  lovers  from  their 
childhood.  Hagen  escapes ;  and,  later,  Walter  and 
Hildegund  flee  togeher,  after  a  feast  in  which  the 
Huns  are  left  helpless : — 

"  Heroas  validos  plantis  titubare  videres." 

Attila's  headache  the  next  morning  is  well  described. 
The  fugitives  took  plenty  of  treasure  with  them — 
golden  rings,  the  usual  heroic  form  of  wealth — and 
made  their  way  to  the  Ehine  at  Worms.  There  they 
were  discovered  by  Gunther;  for  Walter,*  who  had  a 
fishing-rod  with  him,  caught  more  than  was  wanted 
for  the  pot,  and  gave  some  to  the  ferryman,  who  in 
turn  made  a  present  to  the  king's  cook:  so  Gunther 
came  to  hear  of  the  stranger  and  tlie  lady  along  with 
him,  and  the  rings.  "My  father's  treasure  returning 
from  the  Huns,"  cried  Gunther ;  and  "  he  took  the 
table  with  his  foot "  (ruensam  pede  percutit)  like  other 
excited  heroes.  Gunther  set  out  to  find  Walter, 
though  Hagen  tried  to  dissuade  him,  "mindful  of  the 
old  covenant  and  the  former  companion."  Then  comes 
the  great  fight  in  the  Vosges,  the  Wasgenstein  of  later 
accounts,  with  Walter,  in  his  camp  among  the  rocks, 
a  natural  stronghold  only  approached  by  a  narrow 
way  —  the  right  place  for  an  epic  battle.  Hagen 
would  not  go  against  Walter.  At  the  end  of  the  day, 
when  Walter  had  killed  all  his  men,  and  only  Gunther 
and  Hagen  were  left,  Gunther  tried  to  stir  up  Hagen 
against  his  old  friend  ;  but  Hagen  refused,  and  they 


LATIN   AUTHORS.  225 

withdrew.  Vf alter  and  Hildegund  remained  in  their 
fortress,  taking  turns  to  watcli,  Hildegund  singing  to 
keep  herself  awake.  In  the  morning,  as  they  were 
moving  away,  the  Franks  returned,  and  the  attack  was 
renewed.  After  all  three  chieftains  had  been  wounded, 
peace  was  made.  Walter  and  Hildegund  reigned  long 
in  Aquitaine,  but  their  later  triumphs  belong  to  an- 
other story.  The  poem  ends  with  an  apology  for 
the  writer's  youth. 

Ekkehard's  similes  are  hardly  as  striking  as  those 
of  Ermoldus,  but  they  are  often  good :  the  host  of 
Attila,  a  forest  of  iron,  gleaming  like  the  sun  on  the 
morning  sea : — 

"  Ferrea  sylva  iiiicat,  totos  rutilando  per  agros, 
Hand  aliter  primo  quaiii  pulsans  seqiiora  mane 
Pulclier  in  extremis  renitet  sol  partibus  orbis." 

It  is  as  a  story  of  adventure  that  Waltharius  is 
notable.  There  is  no  fumbling  about  the  composi- 
tion ;  everything  is  in  its  place,  and  clearly  seen. 
Tlie  author,  or  his  original,  knew  how  his  people 
behaved.  Their  rudeness  is  little  disguised,  their 
motives  are  not  elaborate,  but  (one  is  thrown  back 
to  the  old  formula)  there  is  Nature  in  their  story.  One 
example  of  it  is  the  conduct  of  Walter  at  night,  after 
the  battle,  when  he  first  builds  his  fence  and  then 
looks  to  his  fallen  enemies,  placing  the  severed  heads 
by  the  bodies,  and  praying  for  them  toward  the  east 
with  his  sword  drawn  in  his  hand,  like  a  good  knight. 
Then  he  goes  out  to  catch  and  hobble  the  horses  left 
behind  by  Gunther.  The  fence  for  tlie  night  encamp- 
ment was  regular,  as  is  shown  in  the  wanderings  of 


226        EUROPEAN    LITERATURE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

Sturm  the  missionary  in  the  forest  before  he  settled 
at  Fulda.^  The  business  with  the  horses  is  thoroughly 
practical,  and  would  have  been  approved  (perhaps 
before  the  religious  ceremony)  by  Ulysses  or  Grettir 
equally.  But  the  respect  for  the  slain  enemy  is  not 
a  new  thing,  nor  purely  Christian.  As  Grimm  points 
out,  Arrow  Odd  after  the  fight  in  Samsey  buries 
Angantyr  and  his  brothers.  Other  Icelandic  refer- 
ences might  be  easily  multiplied,  and  compared  with 
the  chivalrous  romances  where  the  true  knight  gives 
housel  to  his  enemy  after  mortally  wounding  him. 

About  the  same   date  as    Waltharius   appears  the 

Ecbasis  Captivi,^  one  of  the   forerunners  of  Reynard 

Ecbasis      ^^^  Fox,  iuasmucli  as  it  is  a  satirical  story 

captivi.      Yvith  the  beasts  as  actors :   it  was  written 

by  a  monk  of  Toul.     A  hundred  years  later  came  the 

fragments  of  the  curious  romance  of  Buodlieh,^  very 

hard  to  arrange  and  explain:  the  story  of 

Ruodlieb.  ti  , 

an  adventurer,  like  many  another  in  the 
tales  of  chivalry.  The  verse,  like  that  of  the  Ecbasis, 
is  leonine  hexameter  ;  German  words  are  found  in  it : — - 

{The  Lady  speaks.) 

Dixit :  "Die  illi  nunc  de  me  corde  ficleli 
Tantundeni  liehes,  veniat  quantum  modo  loiihcs, 
Et  volucrum  wunna  quot  sint,  tot  die  sibi  minna, 
Grarainis  et  florum  c[uantum  sit,  die  et  honorum." 

There  is  a  pretty  scene  with  a  dwarf  or  elf,  true  of 
word,  as  those  wights  always  are;  and  this,  with  the 

^  The  passage  is  quoted  by  Ebert,  ii.  105,  from  Eigil's  Life  of  Sturm. 

2  Ed.  Grimm  and  Schmeller,  Lat.  Ged.,  1838. 

^  Ed.  Grimm  and  Schmeller,  ibid. ;  ed.  Seller,  1882. 


LATIN   AUTHORS.  227 

name  of  King  Euotlieb,  has  been  found  again  in  the 
Eckenlied  of  the  German  Heldenljiich.  More  remark- 
able are  the  anticipations  of  the  French  romantic 
school — e.g.,  the  elaborate  descriptions  of  works  of  art 
are  such  as  were  fashionable  with  French  poets  in 
the  next  century. 

The  Comic  literature  of  Germany  has  never  had 
much  credit  from  other  nations,  though  they  have  been 
Modus  Liebinc :  I's^^y  to  live  on  it  without  ackuowlcdg- 
ModusFiorum.  ^^^1%,  bovrowiug  Till  Owlglas  and  other 
jesters.  In  the  Middle  Ages,  Germany  is  aliead  of 
France  in  a  kind  which  is  reckoned  peculiarly  French  ; 
the  earliest  fabliaux  are  in  German  Latin,  with 
Swabians  for  comic  heroes, — the  story  of  tlie  Snovj- 
Chilcl,  and  the  other,  How  the  Swahian  made  the  King 
say  'That's  a  story!  Tliese  are  written  to  well-known 
tunes,  which  give  them  their  titles,  Modus  Liehinc  and 
Modus  Florum.  They  are  good  enough:  the  former  one, 
with  considerable  elegance  in  phrasing,  tells  a  story 
fit  for  the  Decamei^on ;  the  other,  with  less  ambition, 
gives  one  of  the  well-known  popular  tales  —  a 
monstrous  lie  rewarded  with  the  hand  of  the  king's 
daughter.  The  malice  of  the  Snow- Child  is  some- 
thing different  from  anything  in  vernacular  literature 
till  the  time  of  Boccaccio  and  Chaucer;  the  learned 
language  and  the  rather  difficult  verse  perhaps  helping 
to  refine  the  mischief  of  the  story.  It  is  self-conscious, 
amused  at  its  own  craft:  a  different  thing  from  the 
ingenuous  simplicity  of  the  French  "merry  tales," 
not  to  speak  of  the  churlish  heaviness  of  the  worst 
among  them. 


228 


CfLAPTEE   IV. 

THE   TEUTONIC   LANGUAGES. 

RULES  OF  VEI^SF. — OLD  HIGH  GERMAN  POETRY — '  HILDEBRAND  ' — '  MUS- 
PILLI  ' — OTFRID — SAXON  AND  ANGLO-SAXON  POETRY — '  BEOWULF  ' 
AND  'bYRHTNOTH' — CiEDMON — THE  SAXON  GENESIS— CYNEWULF — 
THE  ELEGIES — NORSE  AND  ICELANDIC  POETRY — THE  'ELDER  EDDA,' 
AND    OTHER   NORTHERN   POEMS — COURT-POETRY   IN   THE   NORTH. 

GERMAN  PROSE — GOTHIC,  HIGH  GERMAN,  ANGLO-SAXON,  ICELANDIC 
—  ULPILAS  —  THE  ENGLISH  'CHRONICLE' — ALFRED  —  ^LFRIC  —  ART 
THE  WISE — NOTKER    THE    GERMAN. 

There  is  extant  a  considerable  body  of  poetry  in  the  old 
Germanic  tongues,  especially  in  Icelandic  and  Anglo- 
Saxon.  In  addition,  there  are  many  historical  facts  on 
which  to  base  conjectures  about  what  has  been  lost, — 
and  that  much  has  been  lost  is  certain.  The  measures 
taken  by  Charlemagne  and  Alfred  to  preserve  tlie  Frank- 
ish  and  the  Englisli  poetry  were  frustrated  by  the  pre- 
judices and  the  negligence  of  tlieir  successors.  It  is  by 
chance  only  that  anything  iias  been  preserved.  The 
Anglo-Saxon  poems  and  the  "Eider  Edda"  have  come 
through  fire.  We  know  the  hair-breadth  escapes  of  the 
text  of  Beowulf^  of  Finneslurli,  and  of  the  Lay  of  Mal- 
don ;  and  there  is  nothing  fanciful  in  believing  that 


THE   TEUTONIC    LANGUAGES.  229 


fires,  rats,  librarians,  or  Protestant  entliusiasm  may 
iiave  dismissed  from  the  world  an  Old  English  heroic 
poem  on  the  Nibelung  history,  with  even  less  mark  of 
its  having  once  existed  than  there  is  for  the  lost  story 
of  Wade,  or  for  the  English  version  of  Hildebrand.^ 

It  is  proved,  and  it  scarcely  needed  proof,  that  the 
old  Germans  had  the  popular  kinds  of  poetry  whicli 
were  not  wanting  even  to  the  founders  of  Rome. 
They  had  spell-songs,  they  had  gibing  verses,  they 
had  riddles, — kinds  that  belong  t-o"'the  whole  world, 
and  of  which  there  are  remnants  and  reminiscences 
current  still. 

They  had  a  common  form  of  verse  which  was  used 
for  any  purpose,  and  which  early  in  historical  times 
was  already  developed  as  the  proper  form  of  expres- 
sion for  a  noble  kind  of  heroic  poetry.^ 

^  See  the  Academy,  February  15,  1896.  A  fragment  of  verse  was 
found  by  Dr  James,  and  interpreted  by  Mr  Gollancz,  in  a  thirteenth 
century  Latin  homily  :  Ita  qtiod  dicere  possu7it  cum  Wade : — 

Summe  sende  j  lues 

and  summe  sende  nadderes : 

summe  sende  nikcies 

the  bi  deu  waLeie  vvunieu 

Nister  niau  nenne 

bute  ildebiaud  onne. 

-  The  Teutonic  alliLer.itive  ver.-^e  lias  in  recent  years  been  pretty- 
fully  explained,  mainly  through  the  learning  and  i<kill  of  Dr  Edvvai'd 
Sievers  of  Leipzig,  whose  AHgermanische  Metrih  gives  his  results  in  a 
summary  but  not  too  contracted  form.  These  have  bee;i  in  .some 
points  exposed  to  criticism  and  in  some  points  supplemeuted  ;  see 
especially  for  exceptional  rules  in  the  Old  Nm  ihern  Scaldic  verse 
Mr  W.  A.  Craigie's  ingenious  demonstration  in  iha  Arkiv  for  Nordish 
Filolorji,  vol.  xvi.  (of  the  new  series,  xii.),  p.  341  sq.  (Lund,  1900), 
But  Dr  Sievers's  theory  has  not  yet  been  damaged  in  its  central 
positions— being  indeed  not  hypothesis,  but  mainlv  statistics. 


230        EUROPEAN    LITElJATUllE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

Some  of  the  principal  rules  of   the  old   verse  are 
retained    in    England    in    the    alliterative 

Teutonic  Verse.  p       ^  > 

poems   of   the    fourteenth  century,  among 
v^hich  Piers  Plowman  is  the  chief: — 

"  Ac  in  a  May  morning  |  on  Malvern  hiUes." 

The  line  is  divided  into  tv^o  sections,  with  two  strong 
syllables  in  each,  and  with  alliteration  in  three  out 
of  the  four.  The  varieties  of  rhythm  have  been  re- 
duced to  five  chief  types  for  the  half  line,  taken 
separately,  which  in  their  simplest  form  are  as 
follows.  The  examples  are  from  Anglo-Saxon,  Old 
Saxon,  and  Icelandic: — 

A.  -'  ^  I  -'  ^ :   Mne    biddari,    skarpun    sJcdrim,    haiiga 

dregna.  , 

B.  v^  -'  I  w  -  :  in  hclle  grund,  an  morgantid^  af  sdmm 

hug. 

C.  '-'  -'  I  i±;'  ^  :  on  liranrdde,  an  ir  dagun,  of  grdsilfri. 

D.  -  I  -  ^^  (a  secondary  stress  after  the  second  chief 

stress):   heorht  Ucedgifa,  hard  harmskara,  folks 
oddviti. 
jij   _'  I  _^v^_'^a  secondary  stress  between  the  two  chief 
stresses):  fyrngidda  frdd,  gramhudig  man,  end- 
langan  sal. 

llules  of  quantity  can  be  clearly  made  out  from 
the  common  usage  of  all  the  languages.  The  chief 
stress  is  always  on  a  long  syllable,  or  on  a  resolution 
of  a  long  syllable  {sigord  drghten),  with  one  ex- 
ception :  a  short  syllable  may  have  the  chief  stress 
when  it  comes  immediately  after  a  long  syllable 
which  has  either  a  major  or  a  minor  stress.      This 


THE  TEUTONIC   LANGUAGES.  231 

exception  is  especially  common  iu  the  C  type,  e.g., 
of  leodhete.  Icelandic  differs  from  the  other  languages 
in  admitting  short  syllables  at  the  end  of  B  and  E. 
The  Icelandic  verse  was  more  exclusively  dactylic 
or  trochaic  than  the  Anglo-Saxon. 

In  some  parts  of  the  line  the  number  of  unaccented 
syllables  may  be  increased  without  spoiling  the 
measure ;  the  greatest  licence  in  this  respect  is  at 
the  beginning  of  half  lines  of  the  B  type.  The 
languages  came  to  vary  considerably  in  their  tastes 
with  regard  to  number  of  syllables.  Icelandic  poets 
became  more  and  more  correct ;  the  alliterative  verse 
tended  more  and  more  to  strict  observation  of 
syllables,  four  iu  each  short  line.  The  Old-Saxon 
poet  of  the  Heliand  shows  the  opposite  tendency 
— towards  an  inciease  in  the  number  of  unstressed 
syllables  and  a  diffuse  and  irregular  habit  of  verse. 
The  later  English  alliterative  line  of  the  great 
fourteenth  century  school  is  licentious  as  compared 
with  Cynewulf,  unrestricted  in  the  number  of 
syllables.  But  the  old  rliythm  is  not  lost.  The 
verse  of  Piers  Plow  man,  quoted  already — "  Ac  in  a 
May  morning"  —  preserves  the  old  measures  well 
enough;  and  much  later,  the  poem  of  Scotish  Field, 
on  the  battle  of  Flodden,  follows  the  same  rule,  in 
most  essential  points,  as  the  poem  of  Maldon: — 

"Which  foughten  full  freshly  while  the  feild  lasted." 

Scotish  Field  refuses   the   common   anapaestic   canter 
of   the  "  tumbling  verse  " — 

"A  notable  story  I'il  tell  you  anon  " — 


232        EUROPEAN   LITERATUKE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

and  keeps  to  the  aiicient  variety  of  cadence  which 
makes  the  charm  of  the  Aniilo-Saxon  and  the  old 
Norse  epic  poetry.  But  it  is  the  last  of  its  noble 
race,  in  Britain  at  any  rate,  and  the  ancestral  splen- 
dour is  the  worse  for  wear. 

This  metre,  which  is  used  in  a  poem  on  the  battle 
of  Flodden  by  an  English  writer,  is  found  in  one  of 
the  oldest  Teutonic  inscriptions,  with  grammatical 
inflexions  older  than  the  Gothic  of  Ulfilas,  on  the 
golden  horn  of  the  Copenhagen  Museum.^  It  was 
found  near  Gallehus  in  Sleswick,  in  the  country  that 
the  Euglisli  came  from.  The  artist  (about  300  a.d.) 
has  left  his  name  in  a  verse — 

"  Ec  Hlewagastiz  Holtingaz  horna  tawido." 
(I  Hlewagast  Holting  the  horn  fashioned.) 

Between  tliis  and  Scotish  Field — not  to  speak  of  the 
use  of  the  verse  by  the  poets  of  Iceland  at  the  present 
day — tliere  is  a  long  history. 

By  far  the  greater  part  of  the  poetry  that  has 
survived  in  the  older  Teutonic  languages  and  in  the 
old  verse  is  narrative ;  it  may  be  called  epic  without 
forcing  the  term  too  much.  That  the  alliterative 
verse  was  originally  used  in  strophes  or  stanzas  meant 
for  singing,  and  that  the  continuous  narrative  verse 
grew  out  of  the  lyric  form,  is  a  theory  generally  ac- 
cepted ;  and  though  "  the  similarity  of  two  hypotheses 

^  Tiie  golden  horns  — tliere  were  two  of  them— are  lost.  They 
were  stolen  in  1802  ;  and  by  a  further  stroke  of  bad  luck,  the  gold 
copies  of  them  were  lost  at  sea.  Fortunately  there  were  drawings, 
from  which  the  existing  models  were  made.  See  Stephens,  Runic 
Monuments,  and  Steenstrup,  in  Banmarks  Riycs  JJidorie,  i.   99. 


THE  TEUTONIC   LANGUAGES.  233 

does  not  prove  both,"  yet  it  is  convenient  to  remember 
that  the  same  sort  of  evohition  is  supposed  to  have 
taken  place  in  the  epic  of  Greece  and  of  France. 
Of  strophic  or  lyric  poetry  in  Germanic  tongues  there 
remains,  for  example,  the  old  English  poem  called 
Deor's  Lament,  with  a  repeated  burden,  while  the 
Icelandic  narrative  poetry  is  always  strophic  in  form. 
The  metrical  rules,  it  has  been  seen,  are  to  a  great 
extent  common  to  High  and  Low  German,  English 
and  Icelandic  alike.  But  in  what  may  be  called 
poetical  syntax  there  are  considerable  divergences. 
Two  principal  types  are  represented  by  the  Icelandic 
and  the  old  English  poetry  respectively ;  the  English 
manner  being  more  or  less  the  manner  of  the  Con- 
tinental poems  that  are  extant  in  German  dialects, 
the  Hildebrand  lay  and  the  Old  Saxon  Eeliand.  The"^ 
difference  is  that  in  the  English  or  Continental  type  , 
the  sentence  is  generally  continued  from  one  line  to  i 
another,  and  as  often  as  not  begins  in  the  middle  of 
a  line,  while  in  tlie  Icelandic  type  the  lines  and 
phrases  coincide,  the  grammatical  construction  does 
not  cut  across  the  middle  of  the  verses,  and  the  verses 
fall  regularly  into  quatrains  in  which  the  sense  is 
concluded.  The  English  verse  is  narrative,  the  Ice- 
landic verse  goes  into  lyrical  staves.  Tlie  old  English  | 
type  agrees  in  much  of  its  grammar  and  rhetoric  with  i 
the  practice  of  blank  verse:  it  makes  paragraphs 
where  the  sentences  are  distributed  unequally,  and 
where  rhetorical  swell  and  cadence  are  freely  varied. 
The  Icelandic  type,  more  obviously  regular,  more 
emphatic   and    formal,  is   not   adapted  for   the   long 


234        EUROPEAN   LITERATURE — THE   DARK  AGES. 

rolling  recitative  of  the  other  school;  it  is  quicker, 
more  alert,  more  pointed. 

Alliterative  poetry  by  its  nature  requires  a  large 
supply  of  synonyms,  and  this  remains  its  character 
down  to  the  latest  examples.  The  alliterative  poem 
on  riodden  uses  not  a  little  of  the  poetic  dictionary 
of  Beovmlf ;  the  fighting  man  has  a  variety  of  names 
beginning  with  different  letters,  that  fit  into  different 
alliterative  schemes :  hurneyfreke,  leedes,  o'inck,  sege,  wye 
are  the  terms  of  Scotish  Field,  a.d.  1513 ;  heorn,  freca, 
leode,  rinc,  seeg,  loiga  are  the  words  of  the  old  English 
epic  school,  which  are  common  also  to  the  poets  in 
the  other  Teutonic  languages,  part  of  the  common 
Gradus. 

Richness  of  vocabulary  belongs  of  right  to  all 
alliterative  poets,  good  or  bad;  it  is  a  kind  of  litera- 
ture that  tends  to  extravagance.  With  the  profusion 
of  many  names  for  the  same  thing  goes  the  love  of 
metaphor.  Similes  are  little  used.  The  epic  simile 
of  Homer  is  scarcely  adopted  in  modern  poetry  before 
Dante,  but  the  Teutonic  epic  not  only  does  without 
this  kind  of  ornament,  it  uses  even  less  of  simile  than 
is  common  in  ordinary  story -telling  or  in  the  most 
unpretending  talk.  It  looks  almost  like  wilfulness 
in  a  battle  poet  not  to  say  that  a  hero  went  through 
the  enemy  "as  runs  a  hawk  through  flocks  of  wild 
birds,  or  a  hound  through  flocks  of  sheep,"  but  com- 
parisons of  this  sort  are  of  the  rarest  in  Teutonic  epic,^ 

^  The  chief  exceptions  are  in  Cynevvulf,  Christ,  ].  851  sqq.,  and  in 
Gudrun's  lament  for  Sigurd,  C.  P.  B.,  i.  326  ;  cf.  iWiJ.,  p.  141  ;  p.  54 
('  I  am  left  alone  like  an  aspen  in  the  wood') ;  p.  330. 


THE   TEUTONIC   LANGUAGES.  235^^ 

The  figurative  decoration  goes  almost  altogether  into 
epithets  and  descriptive  phrases.     The  temper  of  the 
poets  or  the  tradition  of  their  school  induces  them  to 
put  out  more  of    their   strength  in  diction  than  in 
illustration.     Instead  of  the  pictures  that  in  Homer, 
Virgil,  Dante,  and  Chaucer  illuminate  the  story,  both 
distracting  and  quickening  the  attention  of  the  reader, 
there  is  found  in  the  old  German  heroic  school  a  kind 
of  rich  rhetorical  incrustation  of  gems  over  the  plain 
narrative:    the   art   of   poetic   diction   is    tlioroughly 
understood,  and  used  "  without  remorse  or  mitigation 
of  voice,"  sometimes  gloriously,  sometimes  mechani- 
cally.    But  whatever  the  art  or  talent  of  the  poet 
may  be,  the  language  of  his  poetry  is  unlike  that  of 
prose,  and  the  invention  and  disposition  of  separate 
jewels  of  speech  is  always  a  chief  part  of  his  task. 
With   this  conception  of  poetry  there  was  an  ob- 
vious  danger   that   the   brocading   w^ork   of   epithets 
might  hamper  the  narrative,  or  again  that  it  might 
be  learned  as  an  art  for  its  own  sake  by  people  with 
nothing    to    say.      A    well-established    conventional 
diction  made  it  easy  for  a  moderate  wit  to  dress  up 
any  story  or  sermon.     Much  of  Anglo-Saxon  poetry 
is    compounded  on    the    same   general   principles    as 
Milton's   translation   of   Psalm    cxiv.,  "done    by   the 
Author  at  fifteen   years  old,"  turning  -'When  Israel 
came  out  of  Egypt "  into  poetical  diction  :  "  When  the 
blest  seed  of  Terah's  faithful  son,"  and  so  forth.     The 
details  of  the  process  are  different,  but  the  ambition 
is  the  same  as  in  the  Anglo-Saxon  poetical  embroidery. 
The    periphrastic  demon  reappears  in   diflerent  ages 


236        EUROPEAN    LlTERATUilE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

with  new  clothes.  Give  a  sentence  to  an  Anglo- 
Saxon  poet  and  an  eighteenth-century  moralist,  and 
they  will  develop  it  in  different  ways,  but  both  will 
be  ready  for  the  business,  and  well  supplied  with 
formulas.  The  Anglo-Saxon  makes  nine  lines  or  the 
sentence  "Almsgiving  quenches  sin  as  water  quenches 
fire."  In  the  school  of  "  Terah's  faithful  son "  one 
finds  the  same  sort  of  proportion : — 

'•  Happy  the  man  to  whom  the  Heav'ns  impart 
A  soul  of  sympathy,  a  gen'rous  heart : 
Honour  from  men  the  liberal  spirit  knows  ; 
A  Higlier  Judge  a  nobler  meed  bestows. 
What  Virtue  can  with  Gharity  compare, 
The  healing  Effluence,  the  Bounty  rare  ! 
As  quenching  stream  the  fiery  pest  alla\  s, 
Quells  the  tierce  embers  and  prevents  tlie  blaze,"  &c.* 

13 a L  in  spite  of  this  tempter  the  Anglo-Saxon  epic 
and  its  counterpart  in  Germany,  taken  altogether, 
show  a  truly  admirable  power  of  narrative ;  the  best 
things  of  the  school  are  magnificent  in  the  right  sense 
of  the  word.  Tiiere  is  a  balance  and  compromise 
between  two  different  sorts  of  excellence  such  as  is 
only  found  in  a  grand  style :  the  Anglo-Saxon  love  of 
swelling  oratorical  periods,  of  grammatical  variety,  of  a 
continuous  onward  movement  in  discourse,  was  enough 

^  Wei  biS  J>am  eorle,  ];e  him  on  iunan  hafaS 
rejjebygdig  wer  rume  heortan  I 
I>£et  him  bij;  for  worulde  weorSmynda  msest 
and  for  ussuiu  Drylitnc  doma  selast ! 
Efua  siwa  lie  laid  wsetre  ];one  wealleudau 
leg  adwcesce,  j^tct  he  leng  ne  meeg 
blac  byrnende  burgum  sce5'd'an, 
swa  he  mid  selmes.san  ealle  toscufe^ 
eynua  wunde,  sawla  laona^.  —  {Cod.  Exon.) 


THE   TEUTONIC   LANGUAGES.  237 

(at  least  in  the  case  of  the  good  writers)  to  save  the 
poetry  from  stiffenirig  under  the  rich  vocabulary.  With 
many  differences,  the  same  kind  of  power  is  shown  in 
the  great  alliterative  poems  of  the  fourteenth  century. 
There  are  very  few  remains  of  the  old  heroic  poetry 
or  of  the  old  alliterative  verse  in  the  German  languages 
Old  High  of  the  Continent.     The  High  German  dia- 

German  Poetry.  Iqq^q  especially  made  an  early  surrender  to 
the  attractions  of  rhyme.  They  show  scarcely  any- 
thing of  the  old  verse  except  the  Muspilli,  a  poem  on 
the  Day  of  Judgment,  and  a  few  fragmentary  prayers 
and  charms.  The  Low  German  tongues  of  Northern 
Germany  kept  the  old  rhythm  longer,  as  the  Saxons 
likewise  kept  a  livelier  interest  in  the  old  stories. 
It  was  in  Saxony  that  a  Norwegian  traveller  in  the 
thirteenth  century  picked  up  and  collected  the  stories 
of  "  Didrik  "  of  Bern,  which  are  extant  now  in  their 
Norse  prose  form  as  he  translated  and  adapted  them. 
The  Lay  of  Hildebrand,  the  only  surviving  poem  of 
the  old  school  on  the  Continent,— the  only  poem 
which  uses  both  the  old  verse  and  the  old 
heroic  tradition,— is  properly  Low  German^ 
though  the  language  of  the  existing  manuscript  has 
been  altered  and  made  to  conform  roughly  to  High 
German  usage  by  the  two  High  German  clerks  who 
copied  it.  Damaged  and  timeworn  as  it  is,  the  Lay 
of  Hildebrand  and  his  son  Hadubrand  has  still  pre- 
served the  character  of  true  heroic  poetry .^     To  call 

^  The  fragments  of  Old  High  German,  verse  and  prose,  are  col- 
lected in  Denhmahr  deutscher  Poesie  und  Prosa  mis  dem  VIJ/.-XII. 
Jahrh.,  by  jMiillenhoff  and  Scherer. 


238        EUROPEAN    LITERATURE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

it  epic  is  not  to  strain  the  term  too  far,  if  "epic" 
be  allowed  to  denote  quality,  even  when  the  proper 
length  of  story  is  not  attained.  For  the  story  is  only 
a  single  scene,  though  it  is  a  scene  which  in  itself 
completes  a  tragedy.  Shortly,  it  is  the  encounter 
between  father  and  son,  in  which  the  son  is  slain — an 
old  and  favourite  theme  for  tragic  authors  in  different 
countries.  It  is  here  told  with  a  variation  from  the 
common  type ;  for  while  in  other  stories  of  the  sort 
the  father  kills  the  son  in  .ignorance,  here  he  dis- 
covers who  his  son  is,  and  is  driven  to  fight  with  him 
because  his  son  will  not  believe  him.  Hildebrand  and 
Hadubrand  met  between  the  hosts  in  some  great  battle 
of  the  Huns,  and  the  older  warrior  asked  the  name 
and  lineage  of  his  opponent.  They  were  on  opposite 
sides,  and  did  not  know  one  another,  because  Hilde- 
brand had  been  long  in  exile  with  Theodoric,  escaping 
from  the  wrath  of  Odoacer.  When  he  fled,  leaving 
"  bride  in  bower/'  his  son  was  an  infant.  Now  Theo- 
doric comes  back  with  his  Easterlings  {ostar  litito, 
Ostrogoths)  in  the  army  of  the  Huns,  and  Hildebrand 
is  in  his  company.  Hadubrand  will  not  listen  to 
his  father's  story ;  he  is  sure  that  Hildebrand  is 
dead.  His  father's  offer  of  gifts  is  rejected :  "  with 
spears  shall  the  gift  be  welcomed,  point  against  point." 
The  speech  of  Hildebrand  when  he  finds  that  he  is 
being  driven  against  his  will  into  the  combat  is  a 
good  specimen  of  the  dignified  oratory  which  belongs 
to  epic : — 

[Hiklebrancl  spake,  Heribrand's  son]  "  Wellaway,  Lord  God, 
sorrowful  fate  cometh  on.     Thirty  summers  and  tl)irty  winters 


THE  TEUTONIC  LANGUAGES.  239 

have  I  been  a  wayfarer,  and  always  I  was  chosen  to  the  com- 
pany of  the  fighting  men,  and  never  yet,  by  any  town  of  men, 
has  my  slayer  found  me.  Now  shall  my  own  child  smite  me 
with  the  sword,  lay  me  low  with  his  brand,  or  I  am  to  be  his 
death.  Yet  well  and  lightly,  if  thy  valour  be  strong  in  thee, 
mayst  thou  win  spoils  from  this  old  man,  plunder  his  war-gear, 
if  thou  canst  make  good  thy  claim.  Let  him  be  the  craven  of 
all  tlie  Easterlings  who  now  shall  keep  thee  from  battle,  now 
that  thou  desirest  it.  from  the  communion  of  war  :  let  him  put 
it  to  the  touch,  that  cannot  do  else,  whether  he  is  to-day  to 
strip  his  trappings  from  him,  or  to  be  lord  of  the  armour  of 
twain." 

The  poem  breaks  off  in  the  description  of  the  combat, 
where  the  fighting  is  in  a  well- accepted  style — as  in 
the  Battle  of  Maldon,  a  poem  composed  two  hundred 
years  after  this  one  was  copied.  First  go  out  the  lances, 
the  ashen  spears  that  are  caught  in  the  shields :  then 
they  take  to  their  swords : — -and  then  the  fragment 
ends,  and  nothing  more  is  known  of  the  old  Lay  of 
Hildebrand. 

It  is  full  of  phrases  that  illustrate  the  common  char- 
acter of  the  Teutonic  poetry,  its  reliance  on  tradition 
and  the  traditional  fashions  of  speech.  There  are  not 
seventy  lines  in  the  fragment,  but  at  every  turn  there 
is  something  analogous  to  something  else  in  Old  Eng- 
lish or  Icelandic  poetry.  Not  only  in  the  separate 
phrases,  such  as  might  be  put  together  in  a  poetical 
Teutonic  dictionary,  but  equally  in  the  general  temper, 
in  the  principles  of  style,  the  Hildebrand  Lay  proves 
itself  of  the  same  kin  as  Beowulf  d^ndi  the  Elder  Edda; 
with  a  much  closer  relationship  to  Beowulf  than  to 
the  Icelandic  poems.  The  grammar  is  that  of  the 
English,   and    definitely   not    that    of    the   Northern 


240        EUROPEAN    LITERATURE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

school.  It  may  be  seen  in  the  passage  translated 
above  how  the  phrases  are  doubled:  "smite  me  with 
the  sword,  lay  me  low  with  his  brand ; "  "  keep  thee 
from  battle,  from  the  communion  of  war."  The 
phrases  thus  rendered  are  double  phrases,  such  as 
are  required  by  the  verse  when  it  is  used  in  the  Old 
English  manner;  the  repeated  synonymous  phrases 
serve  to  ride  over  the  breaks  between  the  lines. 
They  are  the  regular  device  for  obtaining  continuity 
in  the  discourse,  and  preventing  the  staccato  effect 
which,  on  the  other  hand,  was  admired  by  the 
Northmen. 

Besides  Hildchrand,  there  are  a  few  fragmentary 
High  Dutch  poems  in  the  old  measure.  The  Bavarian 
verses,  commonly  called  the  Wessobrunn  Prayer  {Das 
Wessobrunner  Gebet),  are  often  quoted  for  their  like- 
ness to  some  phrases  of  the    Volospd : — 

" That  is  known  among  men  for  the  greatest  of  marvels.  Earth 
was  not,  nor  high  Heaven,  nor  hill  nor  tree.  The  sun  shone 
not,  the  moon  gave  not  light,  nor  the  glorious  sea.  Then  there 
was  naught,  unending  unwending,  and  there  was  the  one  Al- 
mighty God,  mildest  of  men,  and  there  were  also  many  with 
him,  righteous  spirits." 

Even  these  few  lines  show  their  accordance  with  the 

poetic  traditions.     They  begin  with   the  formula  "I 

heard  tell,"  like  Beoiuulf,  Hildebrand,  and   so  many 

others — 

"  Dat.gafregin  ih  mit  firahim." 

Of  Muspilli,  a  poem  on  the  Last  Judgment,  there 
are  more  than  a  hundred  lines,  and  here,  again,  the 
regular  pattern  is  observed,  the  formulas  are  repeated 


THE   TEUTONIC   LANGUAGES.  241 

(daz  hortih  rahlwn,  "that  liejuxl  1  tell').     The  system 

of  parallel  phrases  is  found  here,  as  in  Anglo-Saxon 

poetry,  also   the    extended  verse   and    the 

Muspilli.  .  n^•  1 

occasional  use  or  rhyme.  Ihe  lines  on 
Paradise  have  a  faint  reseml)lance  to  the  Anglo-Saxon 
description  in  the  Plicenw: ;  the  battle  of  Antichrist 
and  Ellas  and  the  flaming  of  the  world  are  given  with 
the  spirit  and  energy  that  properly  belong  to  the  old 
alliterative  rhetoric.  The  Court  of  Heaven  is  de- 
scribed in  the  terms  of  familiar  law  and  politics:  the 
King  holds  an  assembly  (mahal)  summoned  by  his  ban 
which  none  may  neglect  {furisizzan).  The  doctrine  is 
like  that  of  many  English  poems,  especially  the  old 
"Moral  Ode";^  the  condemnation  of  ]\[eed  agrees  with 
Piers  Plowman. 

The  most  considerable  of   the   Old  High   German 

poems,  Otfrid's  version   of  the  Gospel  history,^  is  as 

distinct  from  the  alliterative  order  and  the 

Otj'rid. 

heroic  tradition  as  the  Oi^muhtm  in  En  "land 

O 

from  Layamon's  Brut.  It  resembles  the  Ormulu7ii  in 
many  points  besides  their  community  of  subject.  Like 
the  Ormidum,  it  is  the  careful  work  of  a  student,  who 
has  chosen  a  new  measure  to  write  in,  and  is  proud  of 
his  achievement  and  his  distinction  from  the  common 
minstrels.  But  Otfrid,  though  much  occupied  with 
the  technicalities  of  his  literary  workshop,  is  happily 
less  precise  than  the  English  Orm,  whose  book  is 
indeed  without  a  rival  in  its  peculiar  virtues,  its 
deliberate  and  pious  monotony. 

^  In  An  Old  English  Miscellany,  ed.  Morris,  E.E.T.S* 
2  Ed.  Kelle,  185G  ;  Piper,  1878  ;  Erdmann,  1882. 


242        EUROPEAN   LITERATURE — THE    DARK   AGES. 

Otfrid  wrote  in  rliyming  verse  j  his  poem  was 
meant  for  singing,  and  has  notes,  in  places,  to  give  the 
tune.  The  measure  corresponds  to  the  musical  period 
of  sixteen  bars,  which  comes  by  nature  more  univers- 
ally than  reading  and  writing  to  the  whole  human 
race.  The  chief  syllables  are  marked  with  accents, 
which  in  one  of  the  manuscripts  probably  come  from 
Otfrid's  own  hand.  The  rhyme  is  always  on  the  last 
syllable,  even  when  the  rhyming  words  are  such 
as  harme,  barme ;  or  Undo,  kindo  —  i.e.,  these  which 
look  like  ordinary  feminine  rhymes  do  not  end  in 
light  syllables.  Both  syllables  are  stressed,  though 
not  equally : — Undo,  kindb.  This  forced  accentua- 
tion is  explained  by  the  fact  that  the  verse  is 
meant  for  singing,  not  for  recitation:  the  tune  dwells 
on  syllables  that  are  passed  over  more  lightly  in 
speaking. 

The  same  kind  of  verse  appears  in  England  at  the 
close  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  period,  and  is  found  in  large 
quantities  in  the  Bnit  of  Layamon,  along  with  the 
common  alliterative  measure.  Layamon  did  not 
know  Otfrid,  and  there  are  other  reasons  in  con- 
temporary literature  to  make  it  probable  that  Otfrid 
was  not  the  inventor  of  the  form  which  commonly 
goes  by  his  name.  Ehyming  German  verse  is 
common  about  that  time.  The  Eithnius  Teutonicus 
of  881,  in  honour  of  King  Lewis — the  LudwigsUed — 
may  have  been  copied  from  Otfrid's  pattern ;  but  it  is 
on  the  whole  easier  to  suppose  that  what  is  common 
to  both  was  derived  from  older  practice.     Tiiere  are 


THE   TEUTONIC   LANGUAGES.  243 

rhyming  accidental  lines  in  the  narrative  poetry,  like 
those  in  MvspiUi — 

"dill  niarka  ist  farpriinnan  ;  din  sele  stet  pidungan, 
ni  uueiz  rnit  uuiii  friiaze  •  sar  verit  si  za  uuize" — 

which  differ  not  only  in  rhyme  but  in  rhythm  from 
the  common  verse,  and  which  agree  in  rhythm  with 
Otfrid. 

At  Fulda  Otfrid  was  the  pupil  of  Hraban :  thus 
his  poem  represents  the  tastes  and  ideas  of  the 
chief  educational  tradition.  The  teachinoj  of  Hraban, 
like  that  of  Bede  and  Alcuin,  like  that  of  Hilary, 
Ambrose,  and  Gregory  the  Great,  thought  less  of  phil- 
osophy than  of  the  needs  of  the  flock.  It  was  natural 
that  exposition  of  the  Scripture  should  be  given  in  the 
language  of  the  common  people ;  and  at  least  two 
German  versions  of  the  Gospels,  besides  Otfrid's,  are 
connected  with  the  School  of  Hraban.  About  830 
a  copy,  still  to  be  found  at  Fulda,  of  the  Harmony  of 
the  Gospels,  derived  from  Tatian,  was  translated  there 
into  German  prose.  The  Saxon  Heliand  is  based  on 
Tatian  also,  and  on  Hraban's  commentary  on  St 
Matthew.  Otfrid's  work  is  thus  not  an  isolated 
experiment;  but  falls  in  with  the  general  movement: 
of  the  time. 

He  completed  his  work  about  868  in  the  monastery 
of  Weissenburg,  where  most  of  his  life  was  spent.  A 
Latin  epistle  explains  his  motive.  Some  reverend 
brethren  and  an  honourable  lady  Judith  made  a 
petition  to  him  that  he  would  turn  the  Gospel  into 


244        EUROPEAN   LITERATURE — THE  DARK   AGES. 

their  own  tongue.  The  brothers  complained  that 
their  ears  were  offended  by  the  gross  songs  of  the 
laity,  and  that  their  native  tongue  onglit  not  to  be  left 
to  the  profane.  So  he  wrote,  he  says,  part  of  the 
Gospels  in  Frankish  {franzisce),  adding  occasionally 
moral  and  spiritual  interpretations.  The  first  chapter 
of  his  poem  is  headed  Cur  scripto7''  hunc  lilwum 
theotisce  didaverit,  and  gives  his  reasons  in  his 
own  German  verse.  They  are  the  motives  of  the 
Renaissance:  Otfrid  acknowledges  the  supremacy  of 
Greek  and  Latin  art,  of  the  ancient  poets  whose  com- 
position is  as  smooth  as  ivory.  He 'has  no  liope  of 
attaining  with  his  Frankish  tongue  to  the  pure,  exact, 
and  perfect  measure  of  tlie  ancients;  but  why  should 
not  the  Frankish  tongue  do  as  well  as  it  can  ?  This 
is  in  the  proper  spirit  of  humanism,  reverent,  but  not 
abashed,  in  the  presence  of  the  old  masters.  There  is 
nothing  wrong  with  Otfrid's  good  intentions. 

Connected  with  Otfrid's  verse  and  manner  there 
are  several  short  poems  in  Old  High  German — a  song 
in  honour  of  St  Peter,  a  longer  ballad  of  St  George 
(with  a  refrain,  but  witliout  the  dragon),  a  rhyming 
piece  on  the  woman  of  Samaria.  The  German  poem 
of  Eatpert  in  praise  of  St  Gall  is  lost,  but  it  was 
translated  into  Latin  by  Ekkehard  the  chronicler, 
as  near  as  possible  in  the  original  rhythm — 

"Cur&u  pergunt  recto  Cum  agmiiie  collecto 
Tria  tranaiit  inaria    Celesiimaiit  Christo  gloria." 

The  most  famous  of  all  this  set — Rithmus  TeuUmicus 
de  pice  memorice  Hiudmco  Rege^  filio  Hhiduici  ceque 


THE   TEUTONIC   LANGUAGES.  245 

Regis — follows  immediately  on  the  Old  French  sequence 
of  Eidalia,  written  by  the  same  hand,  in  the  Valen- 
ciennes manuscript.^   It  is  commonly  known 

Ludwigslied.  .        . 

as  the  Ludivigshed,  and  praises  Lewis  III. 
for  his  victory  over  the  Northmen  at  Sancourt  in  881. 
Lewis  died  the  next  year,  but  the  poem  was  com- 
posed before  that,  immediately  after  the  battle.  The 
adventures  of  King  Lewis  became  a  favourite  subject 
in  French  epic;^  and  the  Liidvngslied  at  one  time  was 
made  into  evidence  that  Frencii  epic  was  derived  from 
German.  But  this  has  been  given  up :  the  French  song 
of  King  Lewis  is  otherwise  descended,  and  the  pious 
well-meaning  verses  of  the  Rithmus  Teutonicus  have 
no  share  in  its  ancestry.  The  German  poem  is  ab- 
solutely sincere  and  right  in  its  sentiments:  the  Lord 
was  helper  and  nursing-father  to  the  orphan  king;  the 
Normans  plagued  the  people  for  tiieir  sins ;  the  young 
king  brought  deliverance ;  God  save  the  king !  But 
there  is  scarcely  a  thought  in  it  that  is  not  abstract 
and  lit  for  prose ;  a  phrase  of  one  of  the  old  heathen 
spells  might  buy  the  whole  of  it. 

The  Anglo-Saxons  have  acquired  (probably  through 
the  association  of  King  Alfred  with  blameless  heroes 
like  George  Washington)  a  name  for  respectability. 
Their  extant  literature  is  largely  moral.  But  Anglo- 
Saxon  tameness  is  fury  compared  with  the  High 
German,  if  the  remains  of  High  German  literature  are 
any  evidence.  In  both  cases,  probably,  the  people 
are  misrepresented  by  these  relics. 

The  Saxon  Ueliand  ^  is  in  great  part  derived  from 

^  Above,  p.  221,  note.  ^  gg^  below,  p.  351.         ^  g^  Sievers,  1878. 


246        EUEOPEAN   LITERATURE — THE   DAEK   AGES, 

the  same  sources  as  Olfrid,  about  the  same  time ;  it 
belongs,  of  course,  to  a  different  school.    But 

Hcliand.  t    i  i     • 

althougii  it  preserves  the  language  and  form 
of  the  old  heroic  poetry,  it  is  not  a  primitive  thing ;  it 
is  a  pupil  of  the  Northumbrian  school,  the  artistic 
narrative  poetry  of  England,  and  it  is  not  less  am- 
bitious than  Otfrid  in  its  literary  -scope.  The  merit 
of  the  Saxon  poem,  is  that  it  runs  freely ;  it  has  fewer 
brilliances  than  the  English  poetry,  and  nothing  like 
the  imaginative  force  of  the  Saxon  Paradise  Lost 
which  has  been  preserved  in  the  old  English  Genesis. 
The  morality  is  that  of  the  epic  tradition,  especially 
in  the  motive  of  loyalty :  the  disciples  accompany 
their  Lord  like  the  thanes  of  Beowulf  or  Byrhtnoth. 
The  language  is  full  of  phrases  that  belong  to  the 
common  stock — "  bitter  breast-care,"  "  mickle  mood- 
care,"  "grim  and  greedy,"  and  so  forth — well  known 
in  Anglo-Saxon  verse.  Yet  this  conventional  language 
is  used  with  spirit,  and  there  is  much  energy  in  the 
story,  perhaps  none  the  worse  for  the  want  of  novelty 
in  the  diction.  The  prophecy  of  the  end  of  the  world 
(11.  4294-4377)  may  be  referred  to  as  an  example 
of  the  style,  with  its  poetical  use  of  common  words — 
"by  this  ye  shall  know  that  summer  is  nigh,  warm 
and  winsome  and  weather  sheen  "  (tvarm  endi  wunsam 
endi  weder  sconi).  The  descriptive  parts  of  the  story 
are  seldom  elaborate,  neither  are  they  untrue.  The 
Lord  '^  sat  and  was  sileiit  and  looked  long  at  them, 
gracious  in  thought,  mild  in  mood  ;  then  he  opened 
his  mouth  and  declared  to  them  many  a  glorious 
thing."     It  is  an  Old   Saxon  counterpart  to  the  de- 


THE   TEUTONIC   LANGUAGES. 

scription  in  the  Iliad  of  Ulysses  speaking.^  The  two 
poets  have  both  known  the  same  kind  of  eloquence, 
when  the  orator  is  slow  to  begin:  the  elementary 
Saxon  phrasing,  though  not  exactly  Homeric,  is 
sound  and  effective. 

Anglo-Saxon  poetry  has   tlie  characteristics  of  an 
accomplished  literary  school,  with  a  fully  developed 
Anglo-Saxon   language  and  a  regular  traditional  method 
Poetry.  Qf  exprcssiou.     The  greater  part  of  the  ex- 

tant poetry,  it  is  true,  has  been  transposed  from  the 
Anglian  dialect  of  the  North  to  the  language  of 
Wessex,  but  this  translation  has  not  changed  the  liter- 
ary character  of  the  original.  The  shifting  of  the 
literary  centre  from  Northumbria  to  the  Wessex  of 
King  Alfred  did  not  break  the  tradition  of  English 
poetical  style  :  indeed,  the  English  school  takes  in  not 
only  the  Anglian  and  Saxon  dialects  of  England,  but 
also  the  Old  Saxon  of  the  Continent ;  the  Heliand  and 
the  fragments  of  the  Old  Saxon  Genesis  being  very 
closely  related  in  their  poetical  style  to  the  narrative 
poetry  of  Northumbria.  This  Englisli  school  differs  from 
the  High  German  alliterative  poetry  most  obviously 
in  its  fecundity ;  tlie  High  German  poetry  was  wither- 
ing and  drying  up,  being  displaced  by  new  rhyming 
forms,  when  the  English  poetry  was  flourishing  and 
exuberant,  and  not  in  the  least  inclined  to  part  with 
its  native  habilinaents  in  exchange  for  rhyming  verse. 
It  differs  ttgam  from  the  Northern  school,  from  the 
Elder Edda,  in  its  preterence  for  continuous  narrative; 
the  detached  couplets  of   the  Norse   poetry  are  not 

^  11. ,  iii.  21 G  &qq. 


248        EUROPEAN    LITERATURE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

favoured  by  the  English  poets,  who  use  a  freer  kind  of 
rhetoric,  more  voluminous,  less  lyrical,  allowing  their 
sentences  to  run  on  from  line  to  line.  Old  English 
poetry  has,  in  fact,  over  against  the  Icelandic,  much 
of  the  quality  of  Miltonic  verse  as  compared  with  the 
couplets  of  Waller,  or  of  the  Excursion,  contrasted 
with  the  Holy  Fair.  The  two  modes,  of  continuous 
eloquence  and  of  ringing  phrase,  are  not  limited  to 
any  one  dialect  or  country,  but  represent  different 
habits  of  mind,  which  repeat  themselves  mysteriously 
in  different  parts  of  the  world,  like  types  of  character 
or  physical  feature. 

Very  little    has    been    preserved   from   the  Anglo- 
Saxon  period  of  what  may  be  called  the  experimental 
staoes  of  the  poetry.     The  poems  are  all  of 

Contrast  of  o  I  J  r 

English  and    a  class  whicli  has  got  througli  the  'prentice 

Icelandic.  .  .  ,  ■,  <     •         i  i  .  i 

time;  the  ways  are  ascertained  and  sure,  the 
patterns  are  authorised.  Popular  poetry  is  not  well 
represented,  though  there  are  some  spell-songs  that  show 
what  style  was  current  where  there  was  less  literary 
ambition.  For  the  most  part,  the  Anglo-Saxon  poetry 
may  be  taken  as  belonging  to  a  period  more  like  that 
of  Chaucer  and  Gower  than  that  of  the  confused  and 
adventurous  thirteenth  century  in  England.  There 
is  nothing  in  Old  English  like  the  rich  irregular 
experimental  Middle  English  literature,  or  like  the 
period  of  Marlowe,  Greene,  and  Peele  in  the  history 
of  the  Drama.  Taken  generally,  Anglo-Saxon  poetry 
has  rather  the  look  of  respectable  maturity  than  of 
any  promise.  It  has  its  subjects  and  its  methods 
well   in   hand,   its   resources   are   large ;    but   at   the 


THE   TEUTONIC   LANGUAGES.  249 

same  time  there  is  a  certain  complacency  and  slowness 
in  its  gait,  as  if  it  had  finished  its  educatiun  and  was 
inclined  to  rest  on  its  achievements.  It  is  different 
in  the  Norse  country,  where  the  old  poetry  gives  way 
indeed  and  is  displaced,  but  never  loses  its  springi- 
ness. If  the  Elder  Edda  is  the  last  of  it,  it  shows 
up  to  the  last  a  relish  for  new  attempts,  a  spirit  of 
progress,  a  desire  of  new  beauties,  not  like  anything 
in  the  better  equipped  and  more  contented  Anglo- 
Saxon. 

The  Old  English  epic  poetry,  with  Beowulf  as  its 

chief  extant  work,  is   properly   valued  by  historians 

as  ffivinfT  the  only  narrative  poems  in  an  old 

Old  English  Epic,  ^  •         i-    ,  ,  •  r.       i      • 

leutonic  dialect  that  in  respect  or  their 
scale  can  be  compared  with  the  epics  of  other  lands. 
Though  there  may  be  Homeric  analogies  in  Germany 
and  Iceland,  yet  Hildehrand  is  too  short,  Northern  lays 
too  lyrical,  to  be  brought  into  close  comparison  with  the 
Iliad  or  the  Chansons  de  Geste.  In  Anglo-Saxon  poetry 
there  is  not  only  the  heroic  spirit  and  tradition,  there 
is  the  taste  for  stories  with  a  certain  amount  of  room 
in  them.  Size  counts  for  something  in  an  epic. 
Beowulf  musters  3000  lines,  enough  to  p)ut  it  in  a 
different  class  from  Hildehrand  or  the  Northern  poems 
of  Sigurd  and  Attila.  Among  the  fragments,  those 
of  the  Anglo  -  Saxon  Waldere  plainly  belong  to  a 
story  of  some  considerable  size,  of  about  the  same 
scale  as  Beowulf 

It  is  difficult  to  judge  the  importance  of  this  epic 
poetry  for  the  times  when  it  was  composed.  Un- 
doubledly  a  vast  amount  has  been  lost  irrevocably;  in 


250        EUROPEAN    LITERATURE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

this  there  must  of  course  have  been  many  different 
grades  of  value,  and  at  least  as  much  variety  as  in  the 
English  romantic  literature  of  the  thirteenth  and  four- 
teenth centuries,  which  has  been  better  preserved.  The 
extant  remains  of  Anglo-Saxon  epic,  and  particularly  a 
comparison  of  the  Finnesburh  poem  with  Beowulf  and 
Waldere,  seem  to  prove  at  any  rate  the  existence  of  two 
well-marked  and  accepted  types  of  heroic  poem :  one 
not  far  removed  from  the  pattern  of  HildehraMcl,  the 
other  more  amplified  and  more  ambitious.  T\\q  F'aines- 
hurJi  poem,  judging  from  what  remains  of  it,  was  a  short 
epic  with  one  definite  adventure  in  it,  an  episode  of 
heroic  defence,  treated  boldly  and  without  much  orna- 
ment. The  plot  of  Waldere  is  one  of  the  same  sort,  but 
the  treatment  is  different,  the  rhetorical  speeches  in  the 
extant  fragments,  with  their  digressions  and  illustra- 
tions, belong  to  a  different  and  more  sophisticated  kind 
of  work.  The  adventures  in  Beowulf  also  are  treated 
with  more  ornament  and  more  digression  than  was 
found  suitable  by  the  poet  of  Finnesburh.  As  it  is 
the  less  restricted  manner  which  is  found  prevailing 
in  the  narrative  poems  on  Christian  themes,  both 
in  English  and  in  Old  Saxon,  it  is  justifiable  to  take 
this  as  the  proper  characteristic  Anglo-Saxon  type; 
to  make  Beowidf  rather  than  Finnesburh  the  specimen 
of  Anglo-Saxon  epic  style. 

Beowulf  SiJ\d  Walde7'e  are  the  work  of  educated  men, 

y^    and  they  were  intended,  no  doubt,  as  books  to  read. 

They  are  not,  like  the  Elder  EdAa,  a  collection   of 

traditional  oral  poems.     It  may  be  accident  that  lias 

made  it  so,  but  it  is  the  case  that  the  Anglo-Saxon 


THE  TEUTONIC  LANGUAGES.  251 

books  in  their  handwriting  and  their  shape  have  the 
air  of  libraries  and  learning  about  them,  of  wealth 
and  dignity.  The  handsome  pages  of  the  Junius 
MS.  in  the  Bodleian  (the  Ccedmon  manuscript) 
belong  to  a  learned  world.  The  book  of  Roland  lying 
near  it  is  diflf'^irent — an  unpretending  cheap  copy,  not 
meant  for  patrons  of  learning  to  read,  but  more  prob- 
ably for  the  minstrel  who  chanted  it.  The  Beowulf 
MS.,  though  not  so  fine  as  the  Junius  one,  is  intended 
as  a  book  to  be  read,  and  is  got  up  with  some  care. 
From  the  look  of  it,  one  places  it  naturally  in  the 
library  of  a  great  house  or  a  monastic  school ;  and 
the  contents  of  it  have  the  same  sort  of  association ; 
they  do  not  belong  to  the  unlearned  in  their  present 
form 

One  would  like  to  think  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  epic, 
with  Beoividf  its  representative  (out  of  a  number  of  lost 
heroes),  as  naturally  developing  to  its  full  proportions 
from  earlier  ruder  experimental  work,  through  a 
course  of  successive  improvements  like  those  that 
can  be  traced,  for  instance,  in  the  growth  of  the 
Drama  or  the  Novel.  And  one  wishes  there  were 
more  left  to  show  how  it  came  about,  and  also  that 
the  process  had  gone  a  little  further.  But  not  only 
is  there  a  want  of  specimens  for  the  literary  museum ; 
there  is  the  misgiving  that  this  comparatively  well- 
filled  narrative  poetry  may  not  be  an  independent 
product  of  the  English  or  the  Teutonic  genius.  There 
is  too  much  education  in  Beowidf,  and  it  may  be  that 
the  larger  kind  of  heroic  poem  was  attained  in  Eng- 
land only  through  the  example  of  Latin    narrative. 


252        EUIIOPEAN   LITERATURE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

The  English  epic  is  pos><ibly  due  to  Virgil  and  Statius  ; 
possibly  to  Juvencus  and  other  Christian  poets,  to 
the  authors  studied  by  Aldhelm  and  Bede,  It  may 
be  that  Hildehrand  for  the  Western  Germanic  group, 
that  the  Atlamdl  for  the  North,  fixes  the  limit 
of  epic  size  in  the  old  Teutonic  school ;  that  it  was 
difficult  or  impossible  to  get  beyond  this  without  the 
encouragement  of  Latin  poets,  showing  how  to  amplify 
and  embroider,  to  compose  orations  for  combatants, 
and  to  discriminate  the  particulars  of  their  wounds. 

Yet  while  there  may  be  about  the  Anglo-Saxon  epic 
this  suspicion  of  foreign  and  learned  influence,  the 
Anglo-Saxon,  or  rather  the  West  German  type,  was 
capable  of  growth,  for  all  its  slowness,  as  the  Norse 
type  of  poetic  scory  was  nor,  for  all  its  energy  and 
curiosity.  Tlie  old-fashioned  poem  of  Hildehrand  is 
so  constructed  as  to  leave  room  for  expansion  ;  the 
loose  jointing,  the  want  of  restriction  in  the  forn], 
might  easily  tempt  a  poet  to  the  fuller  mode  of 
treatment  found  in  Wcddere. 

A  reasonable  view  of  the  merit  of  Beowulf  is  not 

impossible,  though  rash   enthusiasm  may  have  made 

too  much  of  it,  while  a  correct  and  sober 

Beowulf.  i  1  p         1 

taste  may  have  too  contemptuously  reiused 
to  attend  to  Grendel  or  the  Firedrake.  The  fault  of 
Beowidf  is  that  there  is  nothing  much  in  the  story. 
The  hero  is  occupied  in  killing  monsters,  like  Hercules 
or  Tlieseus.  But  there  are  other  things  in  the  lives  of 
Hercules  and  Theseus  besides  the  killing  of  the  Hydra 
or  of  Procruates.  Beowulf  has  nothing  else  to  do, 
when  he  lias  killed  Grendel  and  Grendel's  mother  in 


THE   TEUTONIC   LANGUAGES.  253 

Denmark :  he  goes  home  to  his  own  Gautland,  until  at 
last  the  rolling  years  bring  tlie  Firedrake  and  his  last 
adventure.  It  is  too  simple.  Yet  the  three  chief  epi- 
sodes are  well  wrought  and  well  diversified;  they  are 
not  repetitions,  exactly ;  there  is  a  change  of  temper 
between  the  wrestling  with  Grondel  in  the  night  at 
Heorot  and  the  descent  under  water  to  encounter 
Grendel's  mother:  while  the  sentiment  of  the  Dragon 
is  different  again.  But  the  great  beauty,  tlie  real 
value,  of  Beoioulf  is  in  its  dignity  of  style.  In  con- 
struction it  is  curiously  weak,  in  a  sense  preposterous ; 
for  while  the  main  story  is  simplicity  itself,  the 
merest  commonplace  of  heroic  legend,  all  about  it, 
in  the  historic  allusions,  there  are  revelations  of  a 
whole  world  of  tragedy,  plots  different  in  import 
from  that  of  Bcoiuulf,  more  like  the  tragic  themes  of 
Iceland.  Yet  with  this  radical  defect,  a  disproportion 
that  puts  the  irrelevances  in  the  centre  and  the  serious 
things  on  the  outer  edges,  the  poem  of  Beoivulfis,  un- 
mistakably heroic  and  weighty.  The  thing  itself  is 
cheap ;  the  moral  and  the  spirit  of  it  can  only  be 
matched  among  the  noblest  authors.  It  is  not  in  the 
operations  against  Grendel,  but  in  the  humanities  of 
the  more  leisurely  interludes,  the  conversation  of 
Beowulf  and  Hrothgar,  and  such  things,  that  the  poet 
truly  asserts  his  power.  It  has  often  been  pointed 
out  how  like  the  circumstances  are  in  the  welcome  of 
Beowulf  at  Heorot  and  the  reception  of  Ulysses  in 
Phseacia.  Hrothgar  and  his  queen  are  not  less  gentle 
than  Alcinous  and  Arete.  There  is  nothing  to  com- 
pare with   them  in  th.e   Norse  poems :   it  is  not  till 


254        EUKOPEAN   LITERATURE — THE    DARK   AGES. 

tlie  prose  histories  of  Iceland  appear  that  one  meets 
with  the  like  temper  there.  It  is  not  common  in  any 
age;  it  is  notablv  waniino'  in  Middle  English  litera- 
ture,  because  it  is  an  aristocratic  temper,  secure  of  it- 
self, and  not  imitable  by  the  poets  of  an  uncourtly 
language  composing  for  a  simple-minded  audience. 

This  dignity  of  the  epic  strain  is  something  real,  some- 
thing in  the  blood,  not  a  mere  trick  of  literary  style. 
It  is  lost  in  the  revolution  of  the  eleventh 

Byrhtnoth.  ... 

century,  but  it  survives  at  any  rate  to  the 
days  of  Ethelred  the  Unready  and  the  Battle  of 
Maldon.  The  Maldon  poem,  late  as  it  is,  may  claim  to 
be  of  an  old  heroic  stock.  It  uses  the  old  traditional 
form  and  diction.  But  more  than  that,  the  author  has 
seen  his  subject — the  modern  contemporary  battle  of 
Maldon — with  the  imagination  of  an  epic  poet,  with 
a  sense  of  tragedy  and  tragic  nobility,  with  a  perfectly 
right  proportion  of  action  and  dramatic  speech. 
There  is  no  stronger  composition  in  English  till  the 
work  of  Chaucer ;  there  is  nothing  equally  heroic  be- 
fore Samson  Agonistes. 

That  the  Maldon  poem  should  have  been  written, 
so  fresh  and  strong,  so  long  after  the  old  style  had 
passed  its  culmination,  may  be  a  warning 
against  neat  theories  oi  development  m  liter- 
ature. The  close  of  an  artistic  period  may  sometimes 
miraculously  regain  the  virtues  of  directness  and  force. 
Far  older,  there  are  two  poems  not  properly  epic  yet 
belonging  to  the  heroic  age —  Widsith  and  Deors 
Complaint,  the  former  vaguely  lyrical,  the  latter 
definitely  so,  with  a  repeated  burden,  and  something 


THE   TEUTONIC   LANGUAGES.  255 

like  the  Northern  stanza,  as  it  is  found,  for  example, 
in  the  Lament  of  Gudrun.  Widsith  is  a  sort  of  fan- 
tasy on  a  number  of  the  favourite  historical  themes, 
as  if  the  epic  poet's  mind  had  gone  for  a  discursive 
holiday,  skimming  over  the  ground  which  for  narrative 
purposes  would  require  a  closer  attention  to  business. 
Deors  Lament  also  makes  use  of  legendary  material 
for  illustration  of  a  lyrical  theme:  but  here  the 
lyrical  motive  is  stronger ;  it  is  not  mere  fanciful 
recollection.  The  passion  of  the  singer  is  comforted 
by  the  heroic  examples.  The  refrain  makes  good  the 
argument,  "  That  old  distress  passed  over,  and  so  may 
this  woe  have  ending." 

The  religious  poetry  of  the  Anglo-Saxons  and  the 
Old  Saxons  is  part  of  their  heroic  literature ;  it  uses 
ReUgiovsFoetryM'^^  mcasurc,  the  formulas,  the  ideas,  of 
ccBdmon.  German    heroic  verse.     In   quantity  it   is 

considerable,  and  it  is  not  all  of  the  same  class.  There 
are  two  names  of  poets,  Csedmon  and  Cynewulf :  the 
first  of  them  regarded  by  Bede  as  the  founder  of 
Christian  poetry  in  England ;  the  second,  by  his  own 
signature,  the  author  of  some  of  the  finest  extant 
poems. 

Of  Caedmon's  own  verse  probably  nothing  remains 
except  the  lines  quoted  in  Latin  by  Bede  and  separ- 
ately preserved  both  in  a  Northumbrian  and  a  West 
Saxon  version. 

Long  ago,  the  subjects  of  the  poems  in  the  great 
Oxford  MS.,  Genesis,  Exod'us,  &c.,  suggested  to  Francis 
Junius  that  they  were  the  work  of  Csedmon.  But  the 
variety    of    authorship    manifest   when    these    poems 


256        EUROPEAN   LITERATURE — THE   DAEK   AGES. 

are  more  closely  studied  lias  left  the  name  of  C?edmon 
only  a  conventional  value  in  relation  to  them,  like 
the  title  of  "Elder  Edda,"  sometimes  convenient, 
whether  accurate  or  not.  And  here  the  gain  is  small, 
for  the  texts  are  easily  quoted  under  their  several 
proper  names. 

The  Genesis  has  been  the  ground  of  some  of  the  acut- 
est  criticism  and  a  most  brilliant  philological  victory, 
TAf^i?^zo-5aa;o)iThe  poem  is  easily  detected  as  by  different 
Genesis.  hauds.    Miltou  patched  upon  Blackmore  and 

Glover  might  represent  in  more  modern  terms  the  in- 
congruity of  it.  Great  part  of  Genesis  is  mere  flat  com- 
monplace, interesting  as  giving  the  average  literary 
taste  and  the  commonplace  poetical  stock  of  a  dull  edu- 
cated man.  But  some  of  it — the  story  of  Paradise  Lost 
in  it — is  magnificent.  This  part  of  the  poem,  studied 
by  Dr  Edward  Sievers,^  appeared  to  him  to  be  mani- 
festly not  English  in  its  origin,  but  an  English  version 
from  the  Old  Saxon,  from  an  Old  Saxon  Genesis 
belonging  to  the  same  school  as  the  Old  Saxon 
Heliand.  So  the  theory  rested,  and  was  accepted  or 
denied  or  explained  away  according  to  the  taste 
of  scholars,  until  the  learned  Heidelberg  librarian 
found  in  the  Vatican,  in  a  book  that  once  had  be- 
longed to  Heidelherg,^  some  considerable  passages  of 
Old  Saxon  verse,  written  on  fly-leaves  and  blank 
spaces  by  some  one  in  the  ninth  century  who  admired 

^  Dcr  Heliand  vnd  die  angel sciclisisclie  Genesis  (Halle,  1875). 

^  Karl  Zaugemeister  und  Wilh.  Braune,  BruchstiicJce  der  altscichs- 
iftchen  Bibeldicldwixg  ans  der  Bihliotheca  Palatina,  lS9i  (Neue 
Heidelberger  Jahrbiichei-,  iv.  2). 


THE   TEUTONIC   LANGUAGES.  257 

the  poetry,  and  iiicludhig,  besides  a  passage  from  the 
Heliancl,  three  from  the  unknown  hypothetical  Old 
Saxon  Genesis  of  Sievers— one  quotation  coming  from 
the  part  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  Genesis  which  had  been 
detected  by  Sievers  as  Old  Saxou.^ 

The  Saxon  Paradise  Lost  is  more  imaginative  and 
more  eloquent  than  anything  in  Beoivulf ;  it  may  be 
inferior  to  the  Maldon  poem  in  sincerity  and  gravity, 
not  stronger  than  Judith  in  poetic  spirit,  but  it  sur- 
passes all  these  in  freedom  and  in  dramatic  force. 
Descriptions  of  Hell  are  frequent  in  all  the  tongues, 
in  verse  and  prose:  the  Saxon  Genesis  is  not  common- 
place, though  it  uses  the  favourite  ideas,  interchange 
of  heat  and  cold,  for  example,  which  Dante  and 
Milton  knew,  and  which  was  supposed  to  be  indicated 
by  the  distinction  in  the  Gospel  between  weeping 
(in  the  fire)  and  gnashing  of  teeth  (in  the  cold); 
and  also  the  common  idea  of  fire  that  gives  no  light, 
"the  derke  light  that  schal  come  out  of  the  fayer 
that  ever  schal  brenne,"  as  Chaucer  puts  it.  But 
the  common  descriptions  are  recast  and  made  new : — 

"  Therefore  the  Ahniglity  God  set  them  where  the  light  was 
evil,  in  the  nether  parts  of  eaith,  baffled  in  the  darkness  of 
Hell.  There  at  eventide  is  fire  new  kindled,  long  abiding  ; 
and  at  morning  comes  an  eastern  wind,  felon  cold  ;  fire  or  the 
shaft  of  frost,  cruel  torment  is  upon  them  all.  This  was  their 
punishment ;  the  fashion  of  their  world  was  changed.   .   .   ." 


1 


This  Heidelberg  fragment  corresponds  to  Gen.,  11.  790-817.  The 
Old  Saxon  quotation  has  unfortunately  been  mutilated,  the  page 
on  which  it  was  written  having  been  shorn  across.  The  other 
passages  not  represented  in  the  Anglo-Saxon  book  are  from  the 
stories  of  Cain  (124  11.)  and  Sodom  (187  1!.) 

K 


258        EUROPEAN    LITERATURE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

And  airaiii — 


•^o" 


"  They  sought  another  land,  that  was  empty  of  light  and 
full  of  11a me,  fire,  and  the  terror  thereof." 

The  speeches  of  Satan  in  their  copious  language 
recall  the  speeches  in  Virgil  and  Ovid,  v/hich  Virgil 
and  Ovid  wrote  v^ith  the  examples  of  Greek  tragedy 
as  well  as  Greek  epic  before  them.  The  complaint 
of  Satan  will  always  be  a  remarkable  thing  in  litera- 
ture ;  in  style  it  escapes  from  the  besetting  difficulty 
of  the  Teutonic  poetry,  the  danger  of  the  repeated 
formula,  the  temptations  of  the  Gradus.  The  poem 
of  Judith,  generally  so  admirable,  is  not  quite  free 
from  this  excess ;  it  sometimes  is  tripped  by  its 
vocabulary,  as  Beowulf  is  also.  In  Judith  the  same 
complimentary  ^  phrase  is  used  within  30  lines  of 
Holofernes  and  of  God :  in  Beowulf,  the  hero  and 
the  dragon,  under  the  influence  of  literary  convention, 
pass  together  from  "this  transitory  life."^  This 
slowness  of  sense  and  readiness  to  take  the  current 
phrase  is  not  found  in  the  Fall  of  the  Angels.  The 
language,  which  in  the  other  part  of  Genesis  is  so 
stiff  and  formal,  here  is  pliant  and  free;  instead  of 
fixed  phrases,  the  words  here  seem  to  have  a  living 
meaning  of  their  own,  proper  to  the  context, — 

"  hafa9  us  God  sylfa 
forswapen  on  l^as  sweartan  mistas." 

(God  himself  has  forswept  us  into  these  swart  mists.) 


^  "  |>earlmod  J>eoden  gumena." 
^  "  Ha3fde  rcghwaiSer  ende  gefered 
Lscnan  hfes."— LI.  2844,  2845. 


THE   TEUTONIC   LANGUAGES.  259 

And  when  Satan's  angel  passes  through  Hellgate 
(for  here  it  is  not  Satan  himself  who  undertakes  the 
voyage  to  Middle-Earth), — 

"  Swang  J?8et  iyr  ontwa  feondes  crcefte." — L.  449. 
(The  fire  swang  in  two,  as  the  Fiend  ruled  it.) 

Both  imagination  and  good  sense  are  shown,  as 
Sievers  has  brought  out,  in  the  view  taken  of  the 
temptation.  The  ordinary  theological  motives,  glut- 
tony and  vainglory,  did  not  seem  sufficient.  The  poet 
would  not  so  degrade  the  Protoplast.  Adam  and  Eve 
are  beguiled  by  the  lies  of  the  serpent,  who  brings 
them  word  that  the  Lord  has  revoked  His  prohibition, 
and  that  for  their  good  they  are  to  eat  of  the  fruit 
of  the  tree.  Dramatic  grace  is  not  wanting  here, 
either.     Eve  speaks,  after  she  has  taken  the  apple : — 

"Adam,  my  lord  !  this  fruit  is  so  sweet,  so  glad  to  my  breast, 
and  this  messenger  so  bright,  God's  good  angel :  in  his  garb 
I  see  that  he  is  our  sovran's  envoy,  from  the  King  of  Heaven. 
Better  his  favour  for  us  twain,  than  his  anger  against  us.  If 
to-day  thou  spake  aught  grievous  against  him,  yet  he  will 
forgive  it,  if  we  render  him  homnge.  Why  this  vexing  strife 
against  the  servant  of  thy  Lord  1  We  have  need  of  his  grace  ; 
he  can  bear  our  errand  to  the  King  of  Heaven.  From  this 
place  I  can  see  Him  where  He  sits  to  the  South  and  East,  in 
His  goodliness  enfolded,  who  was  the  Maker  of  this  world.  I 
see  in  compass  round  about  Him  His  angels  flying  with  their 
wings,  a  mighty  host,  a  gladsome  company.  Who  could  give 
me  this  knowledge,  but  if  God  sent  it  straight  to  me  ?  I  hear 
unhindered,  and  far  and  wide  over  the  broad  creation  I  look 
upon  all  the  world  ;  I  hear  the  mirth  of  Heaven.  Light  is 
my  thought  without  and  within  me,  since  I  ate  of  the  fruit." 

The  Exodus  is  a  good  poem,  with  a  distinct  cl^ar- 
acter.      It    is    not    a    tame    paraphrase ;    it    is    not 


260        EUROPEAN    LITERATURE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

historical ;  the  author  has  takon  for  his  subject  not 

the  story  of  Moses,  nor  the  controversy  with  Pharaoh, 

nor   the   plaojues,  but   simply   the   escape 

Exodus.  „     _  ^       '^  '  ,  1  .  n       1 

out  or  -Gigypt  and  the  destruction  of  the 
Egyptian  liost;  and  this  is  treated  with  all  available 
power  of  rhetoric  to  bring  out  the  magnificence  of  the 
adventure.  It  is  like  Judith  in  the  way  the  author  is 
possessed  by  the  sublimity  of  his  theme  ;  but,  unlike 
Judith,  it  is  impersonal:  it  describes  the  mighty  work, 
not  the  human  actors.  Moses  is  praised ;  he  is  not  a 
dramatic  character  like  Satan  in  the  Saxon  Genesis. 
The  pillar  of  cloud  and  of  fire,  the  pageant  of  war, 
and  more  tlian  all,  naturally,  the  overthrow  of 
Pharaoh  in  the  Eed  Sea,  make  the  stuff  of  the 
poem.  It  is  full  of  the  conventions  of  the  old 
school; — commonplaces,  like  the  wolf  and  raven  of 
battle ;  conceits,  like  the  description  of  the  protect- 
ing cloud  as  a  sail,  "but  no  man  knew  of  the  tack- 
ling nor  the  sailyard,  how  it  was  set."  The  union 
of  conceits  and  other  rhetoric  with  genuine  poetic 
energy  in  this  poem  is  akin  to  many  later  things  in 
different  schools ;  Dryden's  Annus  Mirahilis  is  one 
example,  and  the  poetry  of  Dryden's  century  offers 
many  more.  The  Exodus  was  written  by  a  man  who 
was  full  of  the  traditional  forms,  with  fire  enough 
of  imagination  to  make  them  do  what  he  wanted. 
The  result  is  no  mean  thing;  not  to  speak  of  its 
eloquence,  few  medieval  poems  are  more  effectively 
concentrated  on  the  right  points  in  the  story.  It 
is  true  that  as  the  text  stands  there  is  one  intoler- 
able digression,  but   no   reader  will  hesitate   to  cut 


THE   TEUTONIC   LANGUAGES.  261 

this  out  as  an  interpolated  passage.  The  author  in 
one  place  allows  himself  the  use  of  a  Latiuism  {ne 
iuylla'6  =  nolite),  but  there  is  no  pedantry  in  his  work, 
or  if  there  is,  it  is  the  pedantry  not  of  the  Latin 
school  but  of  the  North.  The  children  of  Israel,  for 
example,  are  consistently  treated  as  if  they  were 
companions  of  Beowulf,  and  are  called  "  Sea-vikings," 
scewicingas,  contrary  to  history.  Daniel  is  one  of  the 
inferior  pieces,  with  nothing  original  in  its  method  and 
little  distinction  in  its  phrasino;.    There  are 

Daniel.  •  -,   ,  •  .        , 

occasional  beauties,  as  in  the  appearance  or 
the  Deliverer  along  with  the  three  holy  children  in  the 
liery  furnace,  like  dewfall  and  fresh  summer  winds. 
The  Song  of  the  Children  is  well  rendered  ;  it  goes 
easily  into  the  forms  of  Anglo-Saxon  poetry,  which 
deliglited  in  all  the  works  of  the  Lord.  There  is 
another  version  of  this  part  of  the  story,  in  the 
Exeter  Book,  commonly  quoted  as  Azarias,  which 
greatly  amplifies  the  rendering  of  this  canticle — 
another  instance  of  the  common  pernicious  verbosity. 
Much  has  been  written  about  the  conjectural 
biography  of  Cynewulf,  and  some  of  the  worst  logic 

in  the  world  has  been  applied  to  the  sub- 

Cyiiewulf.        .  .  -  . 

ject.  One  eminent  scholar  having  to  choose 
between  ISTorthumbria  and  Mercia  for  Cynewulf's 
country,  argues  to  the  following  effect:  "Poetry  will 
not  flourish  in  the  middle  of  raids  and  plunderings  ; 
poetry  needs  quiet.  Now  in  the  eighth  century  there 
were  many  more  kings  of  Northumbria  than  of  Mercia  ; 
which  proves  the  comparative  unrest  and  insecurity  of 
ISTorthumbria :  therefore  Cynewulf  was  a  Mercian." 


262        EUROPEAN   LITERATURE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

It  use(i  to  be  generally  held  that  the  first  riddle 
ill  the  Exeter  Book  was  an  allegorical  device  for 
the  name  of  Cynewulf.  But  better  interpretations 
have  been  found,  and  the  old  reasons  for  attributing 
the  Eiddles  to  Cynewulf  have  disappeared,  taking 
with  them  the  inferences  as  to  Cynewulf  drawn  from 
the  language  of  those  poems.^ 

Four  poems  contain  the  name  of  Cynewulf  as  their 
author — Crist,  Elenc,  Juliana,  and  the  short  piece  in 
the  Vercelli  manuscript  called  the  Fates  of  the 
A]jostles.  Tliis  last  is  probably  not  a  separate  poem, 
but  an  epilogue  to  Andreas,  which  in  that  case  is 
also  claimed  by  Cynewulf.  There  are  several  other 
poems  which  have  been  assigned  to  him  on  internnl 
evidence — Guthlac,  Phc^nix,  the  Dream  of  the  Rood. 
Even  if  the  evidence  fail  to  prove  this,  it  is  not 
denied  that  these  poems  belong  to  the  same  order : 
"the  school  of  Cynewulf"  is  a  justifiable  term. 

Cynewulf  is  an  artist.  He  does  not  go  for  his 
subjects  beyond  the  accessible  sources  of  religious 
history  ;  he  has  the  same  religious  motives  as  Otfrid 
and  the  English  and  Saxon  poets  who  versified  the 
Bible.  But  his  style  is  distinguished  by  a  sensitive 
use  of  language,  a  rhetorical  gracB,  not  unconscious : 
he  is  a  correct  poet.  Most  probably  he  had  studied 
literature :  his  masters  may  have  shared  in  the  love 
of   words   so   characteristic  of   Anglo-Saxon   culture. 

^  Napier  in  Zeitsclirift  filr  deutsches  Alterthnm,  33,  p.  72  sqq. ; 
Sievers  in  ^7i^/i'i,  xiii.  (against  Cynevvulf's  autliorsliip  of  Andreas); 
Skeat  in  An  E)i(jlish  Miscellany  ;  Trautmaun,  Kynewulf,  der  Bischof 
und  Dichter,  1898. 


THE   TEUTONIC   LANGUAGES.  263 

His  own  taste,  and  also  doubtless  the  stronger  ele- 
ments in  the  native  poetry,  saved  him  from  the 
"garrulous  verbosity"  of  Aldhelm.  As  it  is,  the 
danger  in  his  verse  is  that  fluency  and  sweetness 
may  be  carried  too  far.  Like  Alcuin,  he  is  some- 
times over-gentle.  Grimm's  phrase  about  the  autum- 
nal beauty  of  Andreas  and  Mene  remains  in  the 
mind ;  there  is  not  much  promise  in  them.  It 
would  not  be  misleading  to  compare  Cynewulf  with 
Marini,  if  it  were  not  that  Marini's  faults  have  been 
exaggerated  by  the  critics.  There  is  the  same  regard 
for  melody,  the  same  sort  of  effusive  eloquence  in  both 
poets,  the  same  attainment  of  a  perfection  that  leaves 
no  hope  beyond  it  for  anything  but  a  new  beginnino- 
with  different  ideals.  Cynewulf  could  not  be  bettered. 
The  good  things  in  the  later  poetry,  especially  Judith 
and  Byrhtnoth,  succeed  by  forsaking  Cynewulf  and 
strengthening  themselves  in  a  more  heroic  school. 

Cynewulf  is  a  romantic  poet.  He  is  related  to 
the  older  epic  poetry  as  the  French  romances  of  the 
twelfth  century  are  to  the  chansons  de  geste.  His 
interest  is  in  the  expansion  and  decoration  of  the 
theme  more  than  in  the  action  itself  or  the  char- 
acters. It  is  true  that  embroidery  and  amplification 
are  allowed  in  Beoivulf ;  that  the  plot  is  more  or  less 
epic  in  Andreas  and  Elene.  But  in  Beowulf  the 
cliaracters  have  an  independent  value  not  found  in 
the  personages  of  the  saints'  lives ;  in  the  latter 
poems,  as  in  all  purely  romantic  work,  the  char- 
acters and  the  story  are  subordinate  to  the  incidental 
beauties.     The  tone,  the  poetical  moral,  the  drift  of 


264   EUROPEAN  LITER ATUKE — THE  DARK  AGES. 

the  general  argument,  take  up  more  of  the  poet's 
mind  than  the  dramatic  situations.  Andreas  is  a 
poem  of  strange  adventures,  a  romance  of  the  sea. 
So  in  the  third  ^neid  the  story  is  more  im- 
portant than  the  hero,  and  the  scenery  more  than 
the  story ;  though  St  Andrew  is  a  better  hero  than 
^neas.  The  division  of  interest  is  otherwise  ar- 
ranged in  epic  poetry  ;  the  Lay  of  Maldon  shows  how, 
as  clearly  as  the  Iliad. 

In  his  verse  Cynewulf  uses  many  variations,  not  in 
a  casual  way,  but  as  distinctly  as  Pope  under  the  prin- 
ciples stated  in  the  Essay  on  Criticism.  There  is  some 
mannerism,  perliaps,  but  there  can  be  no  doubt  of  the 
art,  in  the  crashing  emphasis  of  the  lines  on  Doomsday — 

"Hu  '\>2ei  gestun  and  se  storm  and  seo  stronge  lyft 
BrecaS  brade  gesceaft ! " 

Or  again,  where  the  repeated  iambic  ending  of  the 
first  hemistich  is  contrasted  with  a  different  cadence 
in  the  second  : — 

"Pcet  on  Jpset  cleope  dsel  deofol  gefeallatJ 
in  svveartne  leg,  synfulra  here 
under  foldan  sceat,  fege  geestas, 
on  wta]>ra  wic,  woint'ulra  scoki." 

The    effect    is    like    the    changing    stress   of   French 

Alexandrines. 

Some  of  Cynewulf's  modes  seem   to  have  become 

conventional,  like  the  use  of  rhyme  for  the  "Paradise" 

motive — 

''  Ne  forstes  fncest  ne  lyres  bisest 
ne  hoBgles  hivre  ne  hrimes  dryre,"  ^ 


*  Phcenix,  1.  15.     Cf.  G^Uhlac,  1.  801  ;  Andreas,  I.  857. 


THE   TECTONIC   LANGUAGES.  265 

But  this  was  found  out  by  an  artist,  before  it  was 
repeated  by  the  school. 

The  religious  poetry  of  Northumberland  is  not  to 
be  dismissed  as  mere  paraphrase  of  medieval  common- 
places. The  Dream  of  the  Rood  is  a  poem  on  a 
common  theme  —  the  cross  regarded  as  a  tree,  the 
noblest  of  the  forest — 

•'Crux  fidelis  inter  oranes  arbor  una  nobilis"! 

But  the  rendering  in  the  English  poem  is  not  common- 
place. It  is  hard  to  describe  it  justly,  but  there  is 
one  simple  beauty  in  it  which  makes  a  vast  imagin- 
ative difference ;  it  lakes  the  story  as  if  it  were  some- 
thing new,  and  thinks  of  it  as  a  mystery  acted  in  some 
visionary  place,  not  on  any  historical  scene.  It  is 
not  the  solemnity  of  Passion  Week  in  the  ritual  of 
the  Church,  but  a  sorrow  unheard  of  before,  scarcely 
understood.^ 

In  other  poems  much  less  remarkable  there  is  the 
same  sort  of  independence.  The  Phmnix?  for  example, 
is  taken  from  a  well-known  Latin  poem;  but  this  is 
used  as  a  theme  for  original  fancy,  not  merely  para- 
plirased  in  the  easy  conventional  manner. 

The  Anglo-Saxon  genius  for  poetry  is  best  shown  in 
the  elegies— T/te  Wanderer,  The  Seafarer,  and  others— 
to  which  there  is  nothing  corresponding  in  Germany 

*  Fortuiiatus. 

2  Passages  from  this  poem,  in  Northumbrian,  ou  the  Euthwell 
Cross,  were  read  and  interpreted  by  Kemble  before  the  discovery  of 
the  West  Saxon  version  in  the  Verceli  MS. 

3  Attributed  to  Lactantius,  but  possibly  not  Chiislian  (Baehrens, 
Poetce  Latini  Minores,  iii.  2i9) 


266        EUROPEAN   LITERATURE— THE   DARK   AGES. 

or  Iceland.  The  English  invented  for  themselves  a 
form  of  elegy,  much  more  modern  in  character,  or  more 
Anglo-Saxon  classical,  than  the  ordinary  types  of  medi- 
Eiegits.  ssval  poetry.  They  seem  to  have  been  more 
readily  touched  by  motives  of  regret  and  lamentation 
than  otlier  people.  Their  poetry  is  sometimes  cen- 
sured as  too  fond  of  pathos.  But  they  could  give 
a  dramatic  setting  to  their  laments.  The  Wanderer 
and  the  Seafarer  are  imaginary  personages,  not  the 
poet  himself;  the  dramatic  form  is  a  safeguard;  it 
requires  a  free  imagination  not  overwhelmed  in  senti- 
ment. 2%e  Wanderer  is  the  best  preserved,  and 
formally  the  most  complete,  of  these  idylls  ;  The  Sea- 
farer is  obscure  and  much  less  regular,  but  there  is 
more  variety  in  it,  and  a  hearty  poetical  enjoyment 
of  the  grievous  weather. 

The  R'ldn  at  first  looks  like  a  more  direct  attempt 
to  make  a  profit  out  of  the  Vanity  of  Human  Wishes — 
"I  passed  by  the  walls  of  Balclutlia,  and  they  were 
desolate."  There  is  really  much  more  than  this :  it 
is  a  poem  of  imagination  rather  than  sentiment.  The 
author  has  his  eye  on  the  object,  and  is  fascinated 
by  his  own  picture  of  the  deserted  city,  as  the 
Seafarer  is  by  his  recollection  of  hail  and  frost,  cliffs, 
breakers,  gannets,  and  sea-gulls. 

There  are  some  signs  of  degeneracy  in  much  of  the 
later  poetry,  stale  ideas  and  flat  verse,  like  the  drowsy 
leavings  of  the  old  alliterative  school  in  Germany. 
The  uncertainties  of  Layamon's  prosody  are  already 
found  two  hundred  years  before  him  in  Anglo-Saxon. 
But  Judith,  more  warlike  than  anything  in  Cynewulf, 


THE   TEUTONIC   LANGUAGES.  267 

yet  with  full  command  of  the  art  of  verse,  belongs 
most  probably  to  the  tenth  century :  Byrhtnoth  to  the 
very  end  of  it.  The  poem  on  Brunanburh,  which  is 
earlier,  is  a  conventional  panegyric,  quite  different 
in  scope  from  the  Maldon  lay. 

There  is  much  good  phrasing  in  the  Anglo-Saxon 
Gnomic  Verses,  which  it  is  interesting  to  compare  with 
the  Northern  moralisings,  shortly  to  be  spoken  of. 

The  collection  of  Northern  poetry  vvhich  it  is  still 
occasionally  convenient  to  call  the  "  Elder  Edda  "  was 
Norse  and  Ice-  niadc  in  Iceland,  and  is  contained  in  one 
landic poetry,  famous  manuscript  book  belonging  to  the 
King's  Library  in  Copenhagen  {Codex  Begins),  written 
at  the  end  of  the  thirteentli  century.  The  name 
Edda,  which  properly  belongs  to  the  prose  treatise 
of  Snorri  Sturluson,  was  given  to  tlie  poems  by 
Bishop  Brynjolf  of  Skalholt  (  +  1674),  who  called  it 
"Edda  Saemundi  niultiscii,"  the  Edda  of  Soemund 
the  Wise.  Brynjolf's  theory  was  that  he  had  dis- 
covered the  poetic  original  on  which  Snorri's  prose 
mythology  was  based,  and  that  this  poetical  or  "  elder" 
Edda  was  the  work  of  Saemund  the  Learned  (  +  1133). 
The  name  is  unjustifiable,,  but  like  "Anglo-Saxon" 
and  some  other  terms  not  approved  by  philological 
reason,  it  saves  a  good  deal  of  trouble.  There  is 
extant  also  part  of  another  copy  of  the  poems,  which 
contains  one  not  found  in  Codex  Begins — the  Dreams 
of  Balder,  wliich  is  Gray's  Descent  of  Odin. 

The  "Elder  Edda"  is  not  merely  a  heap  of  poems 
put  together  without  order.     They   are   arranged  in 


268        EUROPEAN   LlTEKATUliE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

an  intelligible  scheme,  and  the  original  editor  has 
given  prose  notes  to  e.\[)lain  them,  and  in  some  cases 
has  tilled  in  the  connection  with  prose  narrative.  He 
puts  the  mythological  poems  first,  headed  by  the 
Volospd  or  SibyVs  Prophecy,  the  noblest  work  of  the 
Northern  imagination  in  dealing  with  the  themes  of 
the  Northern  faith.  After  the  mythology  come  the 
heroic  poems,  with  the  lay  of  Weland  the  Smith 
as  a  kind  of  link  between  the  myths  of  the  gods 
and  the  tragic  history  of  the  Volsungs  and  Niblungs. 
The  editor's  sense  of  order  is  proved  by  the  way  in 
which  he  interposes  a  kind  of  poetical  summary  of  the 
fortunes  of  Sigurd — the  Gripis  Spd  —  i.e.,  "Gripi's 
Prophecy "  —  before  the  separate  poems  in  which 
successive  episodes  of  the  story  are  presented.  Before 
this,  and  following  Weland,  come  certain  poems,  the 
Helf/i  lays,  which  are  connected  indeed  with  the 
Volsung  cycle,  but  are  not  required  in  the  main 
part  of  the  story,  and  have  nothing  to  do  with  the 
sorrows  of  Gudrun. 

The  mythical  poems  are  of  different  kinds.  They 
are  not  all  in  the  same  form.  Some  are  in  the 
narrative  measure  that  corresponds  to  the  epic  verse 
of  Anglo-Saxon  poetry  ;  others,  again,  are  in  stanzas 
which  are  related  to  the  common  epic  verse,  much 
in  the  same  way  as  the  elegiac  couplet  to  the  hexa- 
meter. They  diflcr,  again,  in  the  nature  of  their 
design.  Some  are  simply  narrative ;  some,  like  the 
Volospd,  lyrical ;  some  didactic,  like  the  boc^  of 
proverbial  morality  that  goes  by  the  name  of  Hdvamdl, 
or  the  poems  in  which    mythological  doctrine  is  ex- 


THE  TEUTONIC   LANGUAGES.  269 

pounded  in  dialogue,  the  Grimnismdl  and  others. 
Thus  the  "Elder  Edda"  gives  specimens  of  many 
different  artistic  aims,  various  degrees  of  poetic  talent 
and  opposite  schools  of  rhetoric.  This  variety  belongs 
to  it  throughout,  though  it  is  more  pronounced  and 
more  obvious  in  the  mythological  than  in  the  heroic 
division.  The  reader  finds  himself  appealed  to  by  a 
number  of  minds,  not  contemporary  with  one  another, 
and  possessed  of  different  ambitions  and  ideas.  The 
poems  have  the  w^idest  range — from  the  ordinary  works 
and  days  of  the  Norway  fells  to  the  splendours  of 
Asgard  and  the  horror  of  the  Judgment.  The  tempers 
of  the  poets  and  their  rhetorical  canons  differ  not  less 
than  Polonius  and  Horatio,  or  Hamlet  and  Laertes. 
The  ordinary  morality  of  the  North  is  delivered  in  the 
maxims  of  the  Hdvamdl ;  the  fantasies  of  untold 
generations  and  tlieir  reflections  on  the  origin  and 
end  of  the  world  are  recorded  in  sublime  and  en- 
thusiastic prophecy.  The  lyric  rapture  of  the  Sibyl's 
Prophecy  goes  beyond  all  other  poems  in  this  tongue  ; 
the  clear  and  temperate  excellences  of  the  Grimnismdl 
are  admirable  in  a  different  way,  and  perhaps  equally 
surprising  to  readers  who  expect  Gothic  confusion 
here.  One  does  not  reckon  on  finding  elegance 
and  lucidity  in  authors  so  remote  from  academic 
tradition.  But  it  is  impossible  to  go  far  in  Icelandic 
literature  without  discovering  that  it  is  habitually 
rational  and  clear.  These  virtues,  which  have  their 
proper  place  in  tlie  Sagas,  are  well  represented  in 
some  parts  of  the  "  Elder  Edda." 

Naturally   and  rightly,  the  Nortliern  poetry,  ever 


270        EUROPEAN    LITERATURE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

since  it  was  recovered  in  the  seventeenth  centnry, 
has  conquered  readers  with  the  fascination  of  its 
glorious  visions,  its  splendid  courage.  Possibly  its 
reputation  may  have  suffered,  like  otlier  favourites  of 
the  romantic  schools,  by  the  indiscreet  enthusiasm 
of  its  admirers.  But  any  one  who  submits  to  the 
fair  preliminary  conditions,  such  as  are  required  in 
all  reading  of  poetry,  any  one  who  understands  the 
language  and  the  literary  conventions,  will  find  in 
the  small  volume  of  these  poems  many  days'  provision 
of  stories  and  of  noble  verse.  The  most  grudgiug 
pedant  might  be  forced  to  acknowledge  the  technical 
skill  of  the  rhetoric;  the  most  careless  fancy  might 
well  be  kept  attentive  by  the  passion  of  Biynhild  or 
Gudrun. 

The  title  Hdvamdl,  "Discourse  of  the  High  One," 

covers  a  miscellany  of  moral  precepts  which  offer  a  view 

of  life  in  the  heroic  age  uncoloured  by  mvth- 

Havamal.  " 

ology  or  by  the  "  wavering  flame,"  the  shift- 
ing streamers  of  Northern  romance.  The  title  is  not 
appropriate  :  it  belongs  to  one  section  in  the  group,  the 
mystical  form  of  the  devotion  of  Odin,^  which  in  subject 
and  spirit  is  quite  unlike  the  sententious  practical  teach- 
ing of  the  rest  of  the  collection.  The  book  of  Proverbs, 
as  it  may  be  called,  comes  undoubtedly  from  Norway, 
and  not  from  Iceland  or  the  Western  Islands.  The 
wood-cutting,  the  wolves,  the  reindeer,  the  birch-bark 
shingles  used  for  roofing  the  house,  are  all  Norwegian. 
At  the  same  time,  apart  from  these  local  touches,  the 
life  described  is  common  to  the  wliole  of  the  North, 

^  See  above,  p.  49  sq. 


THE   TEUTONIC   LANGUAGES.  271 

and  the  teaching  does  not  need  much  adaptation  to 
make  it  suitable  for  Icelandic  conditions.  The  lite 
represented  and  criticised  is  the  ordinary  substantial 
prosaic  basis  from  which  the  brilliant  adventurers  of 
the  North  set  out,  with  which  Olaf  Tryggvason  and 
Harald  Hardrada  were  familiar  in  their  domestic 
intervals.  It  is  the  daily  life  of  the  Northern  home- 
stead, such  as  is  recorded  incidentally  in  the  Icelandic 
Sagas, — the  ordinary  traffic  between  house  and  house, 
with  the  perpetual  tasks  and  difficulties  that  rise 
wherever  people  meet,  "every  man  in  his  humour," 
and  every  man  with  his  own  game  to  play.  For  the 
moralist  here  is  mainly  ethical,  not  political :  the 
state  has  no  existence,  and  the  point  of  view  is  gener- 
ally that  of  Bacon's  Essays,  for  the  benefit  of  a  man 
with  his  fortune  to  make,  and  therefore  with  rivals 
to  be  outdone. 

The  book  begins  with  the  Guest's  Wisdom,  as  it  is 
called  in  the  Oxford  edition,^  consisting  of  about  eighty 
quatrains  in  the  Northern  gnomic  verse  (Ijd^a  hdttr). 
At  the  opening  a  traveller  comes  into  the  house  and 
greets  his  hosts.  The  moralist  provides  first  of  all 
for  his  bodily  comfort,  a  fire,  food,  clothing,  water, 
and  a  towel.  From  this  basis  of  living  he  proceeds 
to  the  doctrine  of  good  life.  It  is  the  life  of  a  pru- 
dent man  without  illusions,  courageous  and  self-reliant, 
sceptical,  acquainted  with  the  weaknesses  and  perils  of 
human  nature,  not  sanguine.  The  guest  in  this  poem 
is  not  one  of  the  daring  adventurers  of  the  Viking 
Age :  his.  travels  are  inland,  among   the  fells,  from 

1  a  P.  B.,  i.  2  sqq. 


272        EUROPEAN   LITEKATURE — THE   DAKK   AGES. 

one  garth  to  another  in  the  ordinary  way  of  business. 
lUit  he  has  at  the  same  time  one  of  the  strong  Viking 
motives — the  desire  to  know  the  world,  and  the  sense 
that  home-keeping  wits  are  dull.  "Anything  will 
pass  at  home  "  {dealt  es  heima  hvat),  and  "  a  man  that 
has  travelled  far  and  seen  many  lands  will  know  what 
moves  in  the  mind  of  the  wise."  Moderation  is  taught, 
much  as  it  was  by  the  Wise  Men  of  Greece,  and  by 
the  Preacher  in  Jerusalem.  "A  man  should  be  wise 
and  not  too  wise,  for  the  heart  of  the  wise  is  seldom 
glad :  let  no  man  know  his  fate ;  his  head  will  be  free 
of  care."  Silence  is  good  *,  the  wise  man  does  not 
readily  give  liimself  away.  But  he  knows  how  to 
speak:  the  fool  either  sits  glum  or  talks  too  much. 
"Archdunce  {Fwibidfamli)  is  he  who  can  speak 
naught,  for  that  is  the  mark  of  a  fool."  Like  all 
sound  moralists,  the  Norwegian  proverbs  give  different 
sides  of  their  matter,  and  are  not  scrupulous  about 
contradictions.  The  prudent  wary  character  is  ad- 
mired. "A  fool  thinks  all  that  smile  on  him  are  his 
friends."  But  there  is  also  a  contemplative  fool, 
"awake  all  the  night,  troubled  about  all  things,  and 
in  the  morning  he  is  weary  and  all  his  vexation  is 
as  it  was  before."  The  wise  man  renders  to  others 
their  own  measure,  "  laughter  for  laughter,  and  leasing 
for  lies."  But  also  it  is  well  to  be  free,  and  not  too 
careful.  "  Silent  and  thoughtful  should  a  king's  son 
be,  and  daring  in  war :  glad  and  blithe  should  every 
man  be,  till  his  death-day  come : "  the  two  opposites 
of  caution  and  frankness  are  here  reconnnended  to- 
gether, in   the   same   stave  of  the  poem.      If  in  its 


THE   TEUTONIC   LANGUAGES.  273 

general  scope  the  instruction  is  a  philosophy  of  com- 
petition, there  is  also  some  regard  for  apparent  or 
partial  failure.  It  is  better  to  be  alive  than  dead, 
better  to  be  blind  than  (funerally)  burned  ;  a  lame 
man  may  ride  a  horse,  a  handless  man  may  drive  a 
herd,  a  live  man  may  always  get  a  cow.  While,  on 
the  other  hand,  this  set  of  prudent  maxims  includes 
also  in  its  theory  the  heroic  motive,  worldly  prudence 
confesses  the  higher  power  of  something  beyond  it. 
"Wealth  dies  and  kindred  die,  and  a  man  himself 
d.es  at  the  last :  but  glory  and  fame  die  never,  whoso 
may  win  them." 

Part  of  the  Northern  proverbs,  as  the  Oxford  editors 
remark,  is  like  the  Hebrew  "  Instruction  of  Lemuel," 
and  forms  a  separate  chapter — the  Lesson  of  Lodd- 
fafnir — each  stave  beginning  with  the  same  formula 
in  the  mouth  of  the  Preacher,  "  I  counsel  thee,  Lodd- 
fafnir."  The  substance  has  the  same  general  character 
as  the  rest  of  the  book ;  the  doctrine  of  the  Mean  is 
taught  again:  "Be  wary,  but  not  too  wary."  "No 
man  is  so  good  as  to  be  blameless ;  none  so  bad  as  to 
be  worth  nothing."  In  another  part  of  the  book  the 
opinion  of  Solon,  which  Aristotle  discusses,  is  given 
in  a  Norwegian  form :  "  Praise  the  day  when  it  is 
ended,  the  ale  when  it  is  drunk,  ice  when  it  is  crossed, 
a  woman  after  the  funeral  fire." 

Other  didactic  passages  belong  to  a  different  kind 
of  science,  and  are  associated  with  the  HdvaiJidl 
properly  so  called,  the  mystic  doctrine  of  Odin,  "  The 
Discourse  of  the  High  One."  This  is  mainly  the 
theory  of  the  virtue  of  liunes:   charms   that   blunt 

s 


274        EUROPEAN    LITERATURE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

the  sword  of  the  enemy  and  disable  his  shooting, 
that  will  si  lake  off  fettersj  avert  fire,  calm  the  sea, 
call  down  the  felon  from  the  gallows,  win  the  mind  of 
a  woman,  turn  the  adversary's  magic  against  himself. 
Much  of  this  kind  of  learning  appears  also  in  a  poem 
of  the  Volsung  cycle,  the  SigrdHfwmdl,  where  Sigurd 
wakes  the  Valkyria  from  her  sleep,  and  she  tells  him 
of  the  Kunes  and  their  power.  Moral  passages  also, 
resembling  the  Guest's  Wisdom,  are  found  here  and 
there  in  other  of  the  heroic  poems ;  for  example, 
the  sentence  in  Fafnismdl  (the  dialogue  of  Sigurd 
with  Fafnir  the  Worm),  quoted  by  King  Sverre  of 
Norway,  "  Eew  are  keen  in  age  that  in  youth  were 
craven." 

Gnomic  poetry  is  not  usually  poetical;  it  tends  to 
prose,  naturally — sometimes  to  the  language  of  Ben- 
jamin Franklin,  sometimes  more  happily  to  that  of 
Sancho  Panza.  But  proverbial  wisdom  is  not  unfit 
for  poetical  expression ;  it  can  be  kindled  into  gen- 
erous admiration  and  scorn  that  require  the  fit  poetical 
phrase  to  render  them.  There  is  to  be  found  in  the 
Norwegian  teaching  an  austere  dignity  and  fortitude 
which  give  a  distinct  character  to  the  moral  verse. 

The  didactic  poetry  of  the  "Elder  Edda"  includes 
Didactic  besides  tliese  moralisings  a  number  of  ex- 
Mythoiogy.    positions  of  mytliology,  quite  different  in 

tone  and  intention   from  the  poems  with  stories  in 

them. 

The  Vaf]))u^7ii$mdl'^  has  a  dramatic  opening:  Odin, 

1  a  F.  R,  i.  61. 


THE  TEUTONIC   LANGUAGES.  275 

setting  out  to  clialleiige  the  giant  Vafthrudnir  to  a 
match  of  wit  and  knowledge,  dissuaded  by  his  wife, 
who  warns  him  of  "the  power  of  tb.e  Adversary,  and 
tlien  sped  on  his  way  with  her  good  wishes  when  she 
finds  that  it  is  of  no  use  to  argue  with  him.  Odin 
comes  to  the  giant's  iiall  uninvited  and  challenges  his 
wisdom.  "  Who  is  this  that  casts  his  words  at  me  in 
my  house?"  says  the  giant:  "out  thou  comest  not 
from  our  halls  except  thou  show  thee  the  wiser." 
Then  Odin,  keeping  his  disguise,  gives  his  name  as 
Gangrad,  one  of  the  many  assumed  names  in  his 
wandering  explorations,  and  the  questions  begin. 
"  We  shall  each  wager  his  head  in  this  game  of 
learning,"  the  giant  says.  The  giant's  knowledge  was 
afterwards  turned  to  profit  by  Snorri  in  his  account 
of  the  origin  of  things,  in  his  Edda.  Vafthrudnir 
is  an  authority  for  much  of  the  strange  antique  cos- 
mogony in  the  Northern  mythological  tradition;  for 
the  son  and  daughter  that  grew  under  the  hand  of 
the  Frost -giant;  for  Bergelmer  in  his  ark  (saved 
from  the  flood);  for  the  Giant  in  an  eagle's  coat 
that  sits  at  the  heaven's  end  and  sends  winds  over 
the  earth  with  the  beating  of  his  wings.  Vafthrud- 
nir knows  also  the  diversions  of  the  heroes  in  Odin's 
hall,  and  the  end  of  the  world,  the  death  of  Odin 
himself,  and  the  vengeance  to  be  taken  for  him  when 
the  Fenris  -  wolf  shall  be  slain  by  Vidar.  But  he 
cannot  answer  the  last  question,  in  which  Odin  is 
revealed,  and  the  match  is  lost  and  won. 

Odin    says :    "  Much   have   I   travelled   and   much 
inquired,  and  much  have  I  proved  thy  powers :  what 


276        EUROPEAN   LITERATURE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

spake  Odin  himself  in  the  ear  of  his  son  Balder  before 
he  was  set  on  the  funeral  fire  ? " 

The  Giant  answers :  "  No  wight  knows  what  thou 
spakest  in  the  ear  of  thy  son  in  the  olden  days.  With 
death-doomed  mouth  ^  I  uttered  my  ancient  stories,  the 
tale  of  the  Fate  of  the  Gods.  Now  have  I  matclied  my 
lore  against  Odin :  thou  art  ever  wiser  than  all." 

The  GHmnismdl^  is  founded  on  another  story  of 
Odin's  wanderings,  given  in  a  prose  introduction  in 
Codex  Begins.  Odin,  in  disguise  under  the  name  of 
Grimnir,  is  put  to  the  question,  in  the  painful  sense 
of  that  phrase,  by  a  king  in  whose  character  Odin  is 
interested.  This  King  Geirrod  had  been  mischievously 
warned  by  Odin's  wife  of  coming  danger  from  a  wizard, 
and  naturally  took  the  vagrant  blue-mantled  Odin  for 
his  enemy,  especially  as  Odin  refused  to  explain  what 
his  business  was.  Odin  bore  the  torment  for  eight 
nights,  sitting  between  two  fires,  till  the  king's  son, 
Agnar,  had  pity  on  him  and  gave  him  a  drink.  Then 
Odin  recited  the  Discourse  of  Grimnir,  a  summary  of 
mythology,  describing  all  the  worlds,  the  homes  of 
gods  and  men,  ending  with  the  revelation  of  Odin 
himself  and  of  all  his  various  names.  The  poem 
includes  the  description  of  the  tree  Yggdrasill,  which 
is  spoken  of  also  in  Volospd,  though  naturally  there 
without  the  detail  proper  in  a  circumstantial  didactic 
poem  like  GrimnismdL 

In  Alvissmdl  ^  the  parties  in  the  dialogue  are  Thor 
the  god  and  Alvis  the  dwarf,  who  has  come  to  claim 

^  Feii/um  munni,  fey  mouth. 

»  0.  P.  B.,  i.  69.  '^  Ibid.,  81. 


THE   TEUTONIC   LANGUAGES.  277 

Thor's  danc^liter  as  his  bride.  Thor  holds  him  in  con- 
versation  lill  the  day  breaks,  and  then  tells  him  that 
he  is  lost  and  beouiled :  for  tlie  sun  shines  into  the 
hall  and  the  dwarf  is  stricken  lifeless.  The  learning 
of  Alvis  is  not  mythological  but  rhetorical;  he  gives 
Thor  the  names  for  things — Earth,  Heaven,  Sun,  Moon, 
Fire,  Corn,  Ale,  &c. — which  are  called  one  thing  by 
men,  another  by  gods ;  Men,  Gods,  Elves,  Dwarfs,  and 
the  mysterious  race  of  Vanir  supply  a  variety  of  terms 
to  serve  as  a  kind  of  literary  vocabulary.  It  is  the 
interest  in  synonyms,  always  strong  and  growing 
stronger  in  the  Northern  poets,  that  has  produced 
this  dialogue :  though  the  dialogue  of  Alcuin  and 
Adrian  and  Epictetus  shows  that  the  taste  is  not 
specially  Northern,  nor  even  the  form  in  which  the 
lesson  is  given. 

By  far  the  strangest  of  all  the  dialogue  poems  is 
the  Loha  Senna — the  Eailiiig  of  Loki^ — where  Loki 
(who  is  nothing  if  not  critical)  thrusts  him- 
self into  a  banquet  of  the  gods  and  tells 
each  of  them  pointedly  the  scandals  of  their  past  lives  ; 
till  Thor,  who  had  been  at  his  usual  work  among  the 
trolls  in  the  East  country,  comes  home  in  the  middle 
of  it  and  prevails  on  him  to  go  away.  It  is  Old  Comedy 
of  the  most  genuine  sort,  founded  on  the  perennial 
delight  in  the  conflict  of  strong  language  that  leads 
in  one  country  to  the  deadly  iambics  of  Archilochus 
and  the  eloquence  of  the  Sausage-seller,  in  another 
to  the  Elyting  of  Dunbar  and  Kennedy.^     Interludes 

1  C.  P.  B.,  i.  100. 

2  Eqxutes  of  Aristophanes,  ed.  R.  A.  Neil,  lutroduciion. 


278        EUKOPEAN    LITERATURE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

of  the  same  comic  cliaracter  are  found  among  the 
heroic  poems  also:  the  contention  of  Atli  and  the 
giant's  daughter  (which  like  the  ZoJca  Senna  is  in. 
gnomic  verse)  and  of  Sinfiotli  and  Gudmnnd,  in  the 
ordinary  epic  measure;  both  included  in  the  Helgi 
Lays. 

The  Volo  Spd,  or  SihyVs  Proyhecy,  is,  unlike  all  the 

otlier  mythological  poems  in   the  ''Elder  Edda,"  not 

didactic,  not  narrative,  but  an  enthusiastic 

Volospd.  1         1     T    <»        1 

ode.  ihe  popular  beliefs  about  the  gods 
and  the  fate  of  the  world  had  in  them  a  crude  im- 
aginative power;  they  required  and  found  a  poet  to 
express  them.  The  author  of  Volospd  knows  the  glory 
and  tragedy  of  the  life  of  the  world  :  he  is  affected  by 
the  mythical  vision  of  the  universe  and  the  rhythm 
of  its  progress  mucli  as  Lucretius  was  when  the  abyss 
and  its  cataracts  were  laid  open  when  the  disclosure 
of  Nature  filled  him  with  divine  pleasure  and  fear. 
It  was  not  left  to  modern  authors  to  discover  the  value 
of  myth.  The  Volospd  is  an  imaginative  rendering  or 
interpretation  of  old  traditions ;  it  is  not  itself  a  mere 
recital  of  beliefs.  Beliefs  are  its  material,  but  they 
are  transformed  and  turned  to  something  new  in  the 
lyrical  energy  of  the  poem.  The  story  of  tlie  birtli 
of  Athena  is  one  thing  for  the  mythographer,  another 
thing  for  Pindar;  and  the  author  of  the  Sibyl's 
Prophecy  is  Pindaric  in  the  way  he  takes  his  subject. 
Unfortunately  the  poem  is  ill  preserved, — incom- 
plete, disarranged,  interpolated.  There  are  two  ver- 
sions of  it,  and  the  two  versions  do  not  agree.  Neither 
the  number  nor  the  order  of  the  stanzas  is  the  sam& 


THE   TEUTONIC   LANGUAGES.  279 

in  both,  and  the  theories  of  scholars  have  hardly  yet 
cleared  up  the  full  intention  of  the  poem.  Bat  it 
does  not  require  to  wait  for  full  interpretation  to  make 
its  poetical  impression.  The  poet  has  his  way,  in 
spite  of  the  faults  and  difficulties  of  the  text.^ 

There  are  two  difficult  and  fragmentary  poems,  not 
in  the  "Elder  Edda,"  which  are  in  some  relation  to 
Volospd.  One  of  them  is  referred  to  by  Snorri  as 
the  "Short"  Volospd ;  the  other  is  the  Lay  of  Hyndla, 
into  which  fragments  of  the  short  Volospd  have  been 
introduced.  The  Lay  of  Hyndla  is  a  genealogical 
poem  with  a  mythological  introduction ;  the  short 
Volospd  appears  to  have  been,  like  the  great  poem  of 
that  name,  a  summary  of  the  creation  and  fall  of  the 
universe.^ 

Another  poem  not  found  in  Codex  Regius,  but  in 

one  of  the  manuscripts  of  the  prose  Edda,  may  be 

taken  along  with  the  mvthological  and  the 

Rigsthula.  .  ^  -r,  /  "   7     t       • 

didactic  poems :  the  Eigsthula  is  a  kind  of 
allegory  of  the  ranks  and  occupations  of  inen.^  The 
story  is  that  the  god  Heimdal,  under  the  name  of  Eig 
(probably  derived  from  the  Gaelic),  went  abroad  on  his 
travels  and  begot  three  sons,  who  with  their  families 

^  See  Volospd  Rcconsiructed,  in  C.  P.  B.,  ii.  621.  Tlie  Oxford 
editors  have  gone  on  a  sound  principle  :  that  Snorri's  prose  para- 
phrase of  the  mythological  matter  of  Volospd  was  based  on  a  good  text, 
and  would  naturally  follow  its  order  ;  therefore  the  pi-ose  Edda  may 
indicate  how  the  sections  of  Volospd  are  to  be  arranged.  The  two 
extant  texts  are  compared,  ihid.,  i.  379-381,  and  should  be  considered 
by  all  students  who  disapprove  of  rearrangements  by  editors. 

"  A  plausible  reconstruction  of  both  poems  is  given  in  the  second 
volume  of  the  Oxford  edition,  pp.  .^15,  629. 

2  a  P.  B.,  i.  234. 


280        EUKOPEAN    LITEKATUllE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

represent  the  three  estates  of  men  in  civil  society — 
Thrall,  Carl,  and  Earl.  Thrall  is  described  with  some- 
thing of  the  contempt  for  the  villain  which  is  ex- 
pressed more  emphatically  and  cruelly  in  a  poem  of 
Bertran  de  Born.  Carl  is  the  busy  franklin,  a  man  of 
substance,  ploughing,  shaping  timber,  building  barns. 
Earl  knows  such  arts  as  Harald  Hardrada  professed ; 
he  can  string  the  bow  and  use  it,  ride,  and  wield  a 
sword,  and  swim.  The  poem  is  full  of  matter  of  this 
sort,  neatly  and  humorously  versified.  In  temper  it  is 
a  contrast  to  the  proverbial  wisdom  of  Hdvamdl,  where 
the  tasks  are  not  meted  out  so  distinctly  according  to 
birth.  Its  chivalrous  philosophy  is  more  precise  and 
exacting  than  was  common  in  Norway  or  Iceland,  even 
as  late  as  the  thirteenth  century.  In  real  life,  as 
shown  in  the  Sagas,  the  Earl,  even  the  King,  might 
turn  his  hand  to  many  trades  besides  the  gentle  arts. 
But  the  poem  is  not  to  be  considered  too  seriously  as 
a  political  document :  being  satirical,  it  chooses  definite 
types  and  keeps  them  apart.  All  the  same,  its  method 
is  strikingly  different  from  the  unconventional  freedom 
of  the  proverbs,  and  their  sympathy  with  ordinary 
life. 

There  are  different  kinds  of  narrative  poem  in  the 
old  Icelandic,  and  variety  is  shown  in  the  treatment 
Fashions  of  ^^tli  of  mythical  and  heroic  subjects.  One 
Narrative.  ]^jj-^j  Qf  gtory  is  givcu  almost  entirely  in 
dialogue,  rather  difficult  to  understand  without  prose 
explanations,  and  making  one  inclined  to  accept  the 
theory  that  the  original  narrative  method  in  the  North 
was  like  that  which  is  favoured  in  Ireland,  a  prose 


THE   TEUTONIC   LANGUAGES.  281 

tale  with  dramatic  lyrics  interspersed.  The  dialogue 
verse,  appropriate  for  comic  debates,  is  hardly  enough 
to  work  out  a  story  clearly  where  there  are  changes  of 
scenes  and  persons  as  in  Frey's  Wooing  {Skirnismdl) ; 
so  in  that  poem  the  introduction  and  the  stage  direc- 
tions, as  they  may  be  called,  are  given  in  prose.^  In 
Balder's  Dream,  on  the  other  hand,  the  dialogue  is 
intelligible  by  itself,  and  here  there  is  no  prose:  an 
introductory  passage  in  three  stanzas  is  enough  to 
explain  the  story  ("  Up  rose  the  King  of  men  with 
speed,"  &c.)  In  some  cases  explanations  in  prose 
have  been  added  because  the  transcriber's  recollection 
of  the  poems  is  imperfect. 

It  is  plain  from  the  documents  as  they  stand  that 
the  Northern  poetry  was  far  from  having  reached  the 
stage  of  fixed  forms  and  orthodox  patterns.  It  was 
making  experiments :  it  was,  one  is  inclined  to  say, 
trying  to  get  the  right  proportions  of  narrative.  In 
this  process  several  devices  were  tried,  none  of  them 
without  interest.  There  was  no  want  of  spirit  in  the 
stories  themselves.  The  adventures  of  Thor  and  of 
Sigurd  had  everything  in  them  to  fire  the  imagination 
and  prompt  the  ambition  of  quick-witted  people  with 
a  taste  for  poetry.  In  some  things  they  succeeded 
almost  beyond  criticism.  Accepting  the  manners, 
the  language,  the  prosody  of  the  Northern  race,  there 
is  nothing  for  any  one  to  find  fault  with  in  tlie  poems 

^  The  use  of  dialogue  in  Teut<Miic  poetry  is  studied  and  discu?sed 
by  Professor  Heusler  of  Berlin  {Zeitsclyift  fur  deutsches  Alterthum, 
xlvi.),  who  regai'ds  the  prose  explanations  as  unessential  in  poems  like 
Skirnismdl. 


282        EUROPEAN   LITERATURE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

of  Thor's  Hammer  and  Balder's  Dream,  or  in  the  idyll 
of  Gudrun  weeping  over  the  body  of  Sigurd.  These 
poems  have  done  wliat  they  set  out  to  do.  They  take 
an  adventure,  an  episode,  a  moment,  out  of  a  cycle  of 
familiar  stories,  and  give  it  exact  and  complete  ex- 
pression, in  short  compass.  But  there  were  difficulties 
when  the  task  was  changed,  when  the  poets  found 
themselves  called  upon  to  deal  with  larger  matters, 
with  the  whole  tremendous  course  of  the  Nibelung 
history,  or  the  more  complex  parts  of  it.  They  have 
few  rivals  in  the  art  of  short  poetic  narrative.^  But 
the  talent  for  selection,  for  compression  and  reticence, 
is  not  enough  for  a  long  story :  the  lyrical  cast  of  the 
phrasing  in  the  Northern  poems  is  too  difficult.  There 
is  too  much  meaning  in  them ;  -the  masters  of  narra- 
tive in  other  languages  are  more  diffuse  and  leisurely 
than  was  ever  possible  in  Icelandic  verse.  Unhappily 
the  manuscript  of  the  poetic  Edda  has  lost  the  pages 
which  are  known,  from  the  prose  paraphrase  in  the 
Volsunga  Saga.,  to  have  contained  the  noblest  part 
of  the  story,  the  farewell  between  Sigurd  and  Bryn- 
hild.2     Even  the  passion  of  Brynhild  after  the  death 

^  One  has  appeared  lately,  Bacchylides  with  his  ballad  of  Theseus 
and  Minos,  and  the  lyric  dialogue  in  which  the  coming  of  Theseus  to 
Athens  is  told  indirectly,  with  a  curious  suspense  and  abruptness. 

-  "  Homer  has  no  such  scene,  no  such  ideas.  The  mastery  of  love 
in  Brunhild's  heart,  her  scene  with  Sigurd,  where  he  ranges  through 
every  choice  before  them,  to  live  as  friends,  to  live  as  lovers,  her 
disdainful  i'ejection  of  friendship,  her  Northern  pride  of  purity,  his 
anguish,  her  determination  to  slay  him  and  follow  him,  her  one  laugh 
as  she  hears  Gudrun's  first  moau  over  the  dead,  her  death,  the 
mourning  of  the  horse  Gi'ani,  as  of  Achilles's  horse  Xanthus,  the 
lament  of  Gudrun — all  this  is  mere  perfection,  all  is  on  the  loftiest 


THE   TEUTONIC   LANGUAGES.  283 

of  Signrd,  which  is  one  of  the  great  things  in  the 
extanl;  poetry,  is  simpler  than  this,  being  monologue, 
and  less  intense,  being  memory,  not  the  immediate 
conflict  of  will  with  will. 

The  difficulties  and  limitations  of  the  Northern  form 
are  proved  most  curiously  when  there  is  anything  like 
adventure  to  be  described.     The  poets  cannot  spend 
time  in  story-telling.      The  persons,   their   wills  and 
thoughts,  are  more   interesting   than   their   exploits. 
The  best  of  the  narrative  poems,  such  as  the  Lay  of 
Thor's  Hammer,  are  comparatively  light  and  simple; 
where  there  is  weighty  historical  matter,  such  as  the 
fall  of  the  Nibelungs,  hardly  any  space  at  all  is  given 
to  the  fighting.     The  Northern  poetry  does  not  know 
the  Homeric   method,   which  is  not  wanting  to  the 
Anglo-Saxons,  French,  or  Germans,   to  the  poets  of 
WaUharius,  Bijrlitnoth,  Roland,  or  the  Nibelungenlied. 
It  was  not  for  want  of  interest:  it  was  because  the 
available  poetical  forms  were  not  adapted  for  descrip- 
tion or  history.     By  reason  of  this  there  is  a  cramped 
and  rather  uncomfortable  effect  about  the  poems  on 
the  fighting  in  the  house  of  Attila.     The  heroic  spirit 
of  Gudrun  and  her  brothers  is   within  the   compre- 
hension of  the  poets,  and  they  have  the  right  means  to 
bring  it  out  in  their  verse  ;  but  they  are  not  allowed 
the  proper  space,  they  do  not  choose  to  employ  the 
regular   formulas,   for   epic    battles.      The    slaughter 
"  <nim  and  great "  at  the  close  of  the  Nibelungenlied 

level  of  Shakespeare,  and  has  no  parallel  in  Greek  or  Roman  poetry." 
—A.  Lang,  Homer  and  the  Epic,  p.  396.  Cf.  Heusler,  Die  Lieder  dei 
Lilcke  im  Codex  Ecgiiis  der  Edda,  1902. 


284        EUROPEAN   LITERATURE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

is  told  by  the  Austrian  poet  in  the  same  way  as  the 
killing  of  the  Suitors  in  the  Odyssey  ;  but  in  the  poems 
of  Attila  in  the  "Elder  Edda"  it  is  treated  much  as 
Burbage  and  Shakespeare  treated  their  scenery  on  the 
stage :  it  is  taken  as  something  understood.  One  result 
of  this  economy  of  narrative  in  the  Northern  poems 
was  that  narrative  had  to  find  another  channel.  The 
Icelandic  Sagas  are  the  complement  of  the  poetry  ;  they 
have  the  breadth  and  freedom  that  the  poems  have  not, 
an  Homeric  literature  in  "  the  other  harmony  of  prose." 
With  the  incomplete  and  tentative  character  of  so 
much  of  the  poetry  there  is  naturally  also  the  beauty 
of  the  younof  art  that  has  not  grown  too 

Tlior.  .  . 

perfect,  that  still  has  something  to  learn  ; 
and  among  all  the  variety  of  experiments  in  form  and 
style  there  are  some  that  cannot  be  bettered :  they  are 
accomplished  and  perfect  work,  according  to  the  ideas 
of  the  Northern  school.  The  Lay  of  Thors  Hammer'^ 
has  already  been  mentioned  as  one  of  these  successful 
things.  It  is  not  a  tragic  poem,  nor  is  there  too  much 
solemnity  in  the  companion  to  it,  Thor  and  the  Sea- 
serpent}  These  two,  the  former  most  of  all,  are  clear 
and  slightly  ironical  versions  of  well-known  myths. 
Snorri's  humorous  method  in  prose  was  partly  derived, 
no  doubt,  from  these  tales  in  verse.  To  go  to  them 
from  Volospd  is  something  like  passing  from  Dante  to 
La  Fontaine.  Both  in  matter  and  style  they  have 
affinities  with  more  enlightened  and  more  critical 
periods  of  literature  than  that  to  which  they  belong. 
Indeed  througliout  the  Northern  poetry  the  style  is 

1  "^rymsJcvitSa,  C.  P.  £.,  i.  175.  ^  Uijmhlii^a,  iLjid.,  219. 


THE   TEUTONIC   LANGUAGES.  285 

capable  of  neatness,  dexterity,  and  point,  often  in  a 
delightful  contrast  to  the  terror  and  wonder  of  the 
themes.  It  was  this  that  attracted  Gray,  doubtless: 
he  translated  the  Descent  of  Odin  and  the  Fatal  Sisters 
because  of  their  style,  and  not  on  account  of  their 
romantic  qualities  merely.  Gray  had  mythology  and 
romance  at  heart,  no  doubt:  he  had  visions  in  his 
own  poetry — "down  the  eastern  cliffs  afar" — that 
come  as  near  as  anything  in  English  to  the  sublimities 
of  the  SihijVs  Prophecy.  But  he  had  not  the  romantic 
vagueness,  he  had  not  the  insecurity  of  phrase,  that 
haunted  the  discoverers  of  romance  in  his  day ;  he 
required  something  more  than  wonder.  When  Gray 
read  the  original  of  the  Descent  of  Odin  in  Torfaeus  or 
Bartholinus  he  must  have  known  that  it  was  really 
classical  in  expression  ;  that  the  Northern  author  had 
done  what  he,  Gray,  was  engaged  in  doing — using 
precise  terms,  deliberately  and  effectively,  for  romantic 
ideas.  Vague  and  grand  imagination  along  with 
definite  terms  of  expression — this  paradoxical  thing 
was  known  to  Gray  in  his  own  mind  and  writings, 
and  he  found  it  in  the  poems  he  translated  from  the 
Icelandic.  These  translations  are  a  piece  of  criticism 
and  of  literary  history — mainly  for  Gray's  own  benefit 
— as  well  as  a  romantic  diversion. 

Other  poems  of  the  Northern  mythology  have  more 

mystery  in  their  themes  and  a  less  modern  character 

in  their  style,  especially  the  two  love-stories 

of  Frey  ^  and  of  Svipdag  —  the  latter  not 

being   part  of   the   Codex  Regius.      Both   are  in   the 

1  Skirnismdl,  C.  P.  B.,  i.  110. 


28 G        EUROPEAN   LITERATURE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

dialogue  measure,  and  in  neither  case  does  tiie  poem 
make  the  story  quite  clear.  The  second  (Svipdag)  is 
in  two  parts,  which  have  a  curious  philological  history.^ 
They  are  found  in  nothing  earlier  than  seventeenth- 
century  MSS.,  and  the  two  separate  por- 
tions of  Svipdag's  story,  Grogaldr  and 
Fjolsvinnsm&l,  kept  distinct  in  the  MSS.,  were  first 
proved  to  belong  to  one  another  through  the  Danish 
and  Swedish  ballads,  in  which  the  matter  of  both  is 
united,  and  the  story  runs  on  from  one  to  the  other 
unbroken.  It  is  the  story  of  the  quest  for  the  princess 
over  sea,  the  love  of  destined  lovers  before  their  first 
meeting,  which  was  told  in  Norway,  Ireland,  and 
Wales  loDg  before  the  time  of  Geoffrey  Eudel  and  the 
Lady  of  Tripoli. 

The  Song  of  Weland,  whicli  is  placed  intentionally 
between  the  mythical  poems  and  those  of  the  Nibelung 
story,  essays  to  give  the  history  of  Weland 
from  the  beginning  down  to  his  vengeance 
on  King  Nidad — the  story  that  is  touched  upon  in  the 
old  English  Lament  of  Deor,  and  illustrated  on  the 
famous  whalebone  casket.^  It  is  one  of  the  poems  in 
which  there  is  little  attempt  at  proportion  ;  one  of  the 
least  artistic  in  design :  belonging  to  an  older  region  of 
poetical  taste  than  the  ballads  of  Thor.  There  were 
probably  many  heroic  lays  of  the  same  sort,  giving  the 
adventures  of  a  hero  from  his  birth.  With  a  more  dif- 
fuse and  eloquent  school  of  epic,  the  subject  of  Weland 
might  have  been  made  to  fill  as  much  room  as  Beowulf. 

1  O.  p.  B.,  i.  92. 

^  Ibid.,  168.      See  Napier  on  the  Franl's  Casket,  in  An  English 
Miscellany  (Oxford,   1900). 


THE   TEUTONIC   LANGUAGES.  287 

The  next  poems  in  the  book,  with  Helgi  as  the 
name  of  their  hero,  are  in  many  respects  difficult  to 
Helgi  and  Hiakc  out ;  but  among  them  the  tragedy  of 
sigmn.  Helgi  and  Sigrun  is  intelligible.  It  is  told 
in  two  versions,  one  called  The  Lay  of  Helgi,  the  other 
The  Old  Volsiing  Lay.  Helgi  was  the  son  of  Sigmund 
the  Volsung,  and  his  fortunes  belong  to  that  great 
epic  branch,  though  they  have  not  much  connection 
with  the  more  famous  history  of  Sigurd.  The  tragic 
plot  has  the  strength  which  is  so  often  found  in 
early  legends,  seldom  bettered,  as  far  as  the  mere 
dramatic  problem  goes,  by  later  invention.  Helgi 
had  to  protect  Sigrun  against  a  detestable  marriage 
arranged  for  her  by  her  father ;  her  father  was  killed 
by  Helgi  in  the  conflict  with  the  bridegroom ;  her 
brother  killed  Helgi  and  took  vengeance  for  her 
father's  death.  The  Lay  of  Helgi  is  one  of  the  most 
ambitious  of  the  Northern  experiments  in  epic. 
It  has  a  largeness  of  scale  at  first  that  seems  to 
promise  something  grander  than  any  extant  Icelandic 
lay  ;  but  this  is  not  kept  up.  The  poem  is  certainly 
notable  as  a  magnificent  thing  wrongly  designed. 
The  theme  is  the  deliverance  of  Sigrun  from  the 
undesired  wedlock  (leaving  out  the  after-history,  the 
tragical  part  of  it) ;  but  this  is  introduced  with  a  fine 
prelude  about  the  hero's  birth,  and  a  summary  passage 
about  his  early  victory  over  King  Hunding,  which  do 
not  seem  to  be  well  proportioned.  The  author  appears 
to  have  been  distracted  between  his  rather  exceptional 
talent  for  amplification  and  the  contrary  and  more 
common  tendency  to  abridge  a  long  story  after  the 
fashion  of  Weland's  Lay.     However  that  may  be,  this 


288        EUROPEAN   LITERATURE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

is  one  of  the  finest  of  the  heroic  poems:  the  appear- 
ance of  Sigrun  the  Valkyria  in  the  air,  riding  with  her 
company  of  armed  maidens  to  take  Helgi  for  her 
champion,  is  one  of  the  magical  adventures  that  make 
these  romances  of  the  North  so  different  from  the 
Anglo-Saxon  stories.    There  is  no  elf-queen  in  Beowulf?- 

The  second  version  of  Helgi  and  Sigrun,  called  the 
old  Volsung  Lay,  goes  beyond  their  wedding  to  the 
tragedy  of  Helgi's  death  and  his  return  from  the 
dead ;  ending  in  one  of  the  finest  passages  of  the 
Northern  poetry,  where  Sigrun  watches  in  the  twi- 
h'ght  for  her  lover  coming  back  to  her:  "Thy  hair, 
Helgi,  is  all  rime-laden,  the  prince  besprent  with  the 
dew  of  the  slain ;  cold  are  the  hands  of  Hagen's  kins- 
man; how  may  I  win  healing  of  tliis,  0  king?"  And 
Helgi  answers :  "  Thou  alone,  0  Sigrun  of  Sevafell,  art 
cause  that  Helgi  is  folded  in  deadly  dew:  or  ever  thou 
go  to  sleep  thou  weepest  cruel  tears,  0  gold  arrayed, 
sunbright  lady  of  the  South,  and  every  tear  falls  in 
blood  on  the  breast  of  the  king,  piercing  cold,  stricken 
with  mourning." 

The  epic  poet  is  here  in  the  same  world  as  some  of 
the  later  ballads,  one  of  which,  the  Danish  ballad  of 
Sir  Aage,  is  possibly  derived  from  Helgi  and  Sigrun.'^ 
The  ballads  have  generally  a  truer  knowledge  of  the 

^  The  meeting  of  Helgi  and  Sigrun  is  like  one  of  the  stoi'ies  of  Finn, 
in  the  Gaelic  tradition,  where  the  daughter  of  the  King  beneath  the 
Waves  a})peals  to  Finn  to  save  her  from  vi'edlock  Avith  a  hated  suitor 
{Booh  of  the  Dean  of  Lismore).  Compare  also  the  story  of  Pwyll  and 
llhiannon  in  the  Mahinoglon. 

2  Cf.  C.  P.  B.,  i.  502,  and  Grimm  Centenary  Papers,  by  Vigfu.sson 
and  Powell,  Oxford,  1886. 


THE  TEUTONIC   LANGUAGES.  289 

land  of  the  dead  than  tlie  more  ambitious  heroic  liter- 
ature desires  or  obtains.  Heroic  poetry  is  too  mag- 
niticent  for  such  motives  as  those  of  Clerk  Saunders  or 
The  Wife  of  Ushers  Well.  The  mystery,  the  suspense 
and  sorrow  in  the  fragmentary  lyrical  verses  of  Helgi 
and  Sigrun,  would  have  been  lost  in  the  finished 
periods  of  a  regular  epic.  But  the  Northern  poetry 
has  many  varieties  of  style,  and  is  not  always  self- 
conscious  and  rhetorical. 

The  original  editor  of  the  Helgi  poems  did  his  best 
to  arrange  and  explain  them,  but  there  were  too  many 
difficulties.  He  found  three  separate  stories  of  a  hero 
named  Helgi ;  besides  that  of  Sigrun,  which  is  fairly 
full,  there  are  fragments  of  two  others,  Helgi  and 
Swava,  and  Relgi  and  Kara,  the  latter  hardly  more 
than  a  name.  The  editor  has  a  distinct  theory,  which 
cannot  be  ignored— namely,  that  Helgi  and  Sigrun 
were  thrice  born:  "Sigrun  was  Swava  born  again," 
and  "Sigrun  was  born  anew  as  Kara,  Halfdan's 
daughter,  as  is  told  in  the  songs  of  Kara."  "  It  was 
a  belief  in  the  old  days  that  men  were  born  again, 
but  that  is  now  reckoned  old  wives'  fables."  What- 
ever the  value  of  this  belief,  there  is  good  poetry  in 
what  remains  of  Helgi  and  Sivava,  a  sound  dramatic 
motive.  Helgi's  brother,  Hedin,  is  betrayed  into  a 
vain  oath  that  he  will  wed  his  brother's  bride :  he  re- 
pents, and  confesses,  and  is  forgiven.  Helgi,  mortally 
wounded  in  a  duel,  gives  a  message  to  Swava  that  she 
should  marry  Hedin.  The  end  is  Swava's  speech  of 
unchanging  loyalty  to  Helgi,  and  Hedin's  leave-takiug 
as  he  goes  to  avenge  his  brother.     Tiie  temper  of  this 

T 


290        EUROPEAN   LITERATURE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

is  less  romantic  than  in  the  story  of  Sigriin ;  the  poem 
has  the  strength  "  that  is  not  passion's  slave " ;  the 
truth  of  Swava  and  the  penance  of  Hedin  are  rightly 
understood  by  the  author. 

Then  follow  all  the  poems  of  the  "  Elder  Edda  "  be- 
longing to  the  Volsung  story  properly  so-called,  the 
story  of  Sigurd.     Of  these  there  is  a  great 

Sigurd.  ,  •   i         ,      i        i  •        i 

variety,  even  without  the  lost  poems  m  the 
missing  sheet  of  Codex  Regms.  To  begin  with,  the 
editor  has  placed  a  kind  of  synoptic  poem,  The  Tro'pliecy 
of  Grijiir,  in  which  the  whole  history  is  summarised  in 
a  clear,  logical,  prosaic  way.  Sigurd's  uncle,  Gripir, 
foretells  to  him  all  the  adventures  he  is  to  go  through, 
— a  device  which  satisfies  that  love  of  precision  char- 
acteristic of  much  Icelandic  work.  Some  one  evidently 
felt  that  the  story  wanted  an  index,  a  summary,  a 
methodical  statement,  and  this  poem  was  the  result. 
It  leaves  Sigurd  naturally  a  little  depressed  as  he  parts 
from  his  uncle  ;  but  to  the  author,  a  man  of  under- 
standing, this  did  not  matter:  he  had  compressed  the 
Volsung  matter  into  a  neat  summary,  with  the  facts  all 
in  proper  order.  This  sort  of  mind  is  found  in  other 
literatures ;  an  Irish  example  will  be  noticed  later. 
In  ballad  cycles  it  is  not  uncommon  for  a  painstaking 
sensible  man  to  put  a  number  of  separate  episodes 
into  one  framework :  epic  poems  may  not  be  made  in 
that  way,  but  the  ballad  redactor,  shaping  a  continu- 
ous story  out  of  traditional  separate  lays,  is  not  a  mere 
hypothesis.  It  is  generally  dull  work :  the  author  of 
Grvpisspd  is  brisk  in  his  way,  but  none  the  better  for 
that  in  poetry. 


THE   TEUTONIC   LANGUAGES.  291 

The  following  poems,  down  to  the  lacuna,  are  ac- 
companied with  prose  to  explain  the  story.  They 
are  fragmentary,  and  of  different  sources,  belonging  to 
the  earlier  adventures  of  Sigurd,  his  alliance  with 
the  treacherous  Eegin,  his  slaying  of  Fafnir  the  Worm, 
and  winning  of  the  Nibelung  hoard ;  his  waking  of 
the  Valkyria,  whose  name,  so  far,  is  not  gi\en  as 
Brynhild.  A  large  portion  is  dialogue,  and  in  the 
measure  specially  used  for  dialogue,  as  in  Lokasenna. 
All  this  has  been  put  together  in  the  Oxford  edition 
under  the  title  of  the  Old  Play  of  the  Wolsungs} 
Besides,  there  are  passages  in  the  ordinary  narrative 
verse  which  are  none  the  more  narrative  on  that 
account ;  such  as  the  song  of  the  birds  to  Sigurd  after 
he  learned  their  speech  by  tasting  the  serpent-steak — 
as  represented  in  a  famous  piece  of  Norwegian  sculp- 
ture, and  a  more  primitive  work  of  art  now  in  the 
Stockholm  Museum. 

What  sort  of  poems  followed,  in  the  lost  leaves,  can 

to  a  certain  extent  be  made  out  from  the  matter  as 

presented  in  the  Volsuns  Saga  which  para- 

Brynhild.       ^  o         o  r 

phrased  them.  One  thing  which  might  be 
guessed  from  the  first  is  clearly  proved  on  closer 
examination, — that  the  lost  lays  had  the  same  inde- 
pendence, the  same  freedom  in  working  out  their 
poetical  ideals,  as  is  found  in  the  extant  poems. 
Those  coming  after  the  gap  in  the  manuscript  have 
distinct  conceptions  of  the  characters,  and  various 
definite  aims  in  handling  the  common  subject-matter. 
Brynhild  is  not  the  same  in  all  the  poems  where  she 

»  a  p.  £.,  i.  30. 


292        EUROPEAN   LITERATURE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

appears,  and  the  differences  come  from  poetical  inten- 
tion in  the  authors,  not  from  confusion  or  negligence 
in  repeating  a  traditional  plot.  In  one  of  the  lost 
poems,  probably  called  the  long  Lay  of  Sigurd,  there 
was  still  anotlier  rendering  of  Brynhild,^  which  glori- 
fies the  prose  paraphrase  in  spite  of  the  altered  lan- 
guage and  the  loss  of  its  poetical  music.  The  other 
personages  also  are  differently  regarded  in  the  differ- 
ent poems.  There  is  great  variety  both  in  the  scale 
and  in  the  style.  In  one  of  them,  called  the  short 
Lay  of  Sigurd,^  though  it  is  the  longest  of  the  extant 
poems,  the  author  has  tried  to  indicate  briefly  (in  a 
different  way  from  the  Prophecy  of  Gripir)  all  the 
chief  incidents  in  the  Volsung  history,  while  giving 
his  mind  especially  to  the  passion  of  Brynhild  after 
Sigurd's  death.  Brynhild  is  the  heroine  of  another 
poem  also,  the  fragmentary  lay  of  Sigurd,  of  wiiich 
the  first  part  has  gone.^  Here  a  different  poet  has 
worked  in  a  different  way,  not  caring  to  notice  things 
apart  from  the  main  situation,  and  representing  Bryji- 
hild  much  less  eloquent,  less  effusive,  strongly  rent 
between  her  desire  of  vengeance  on  Sigurd  and  the 
cold  grief  to  which  she  awakens  when  her  tragic 
laughter  is  past.  Then  there  are  the  idyllic  poems: 
the  Hell-ride  of  Brynhild,*  which  follows  on  the  short 

Lay  of  Sigurd,  may  be  by  the  same  author; 

the  beautiful  and  gentle  poem  of  Gudrun's 
tearless  sorrow,  breaking  out  when  Giuki's  daughter 
swept  the  pall  from  the  face  of  the  dead  Sigurd  ;^  the 

1  Above,  p.  282.  ^  ^  p_  ^    i  293.  ^  ji^i^i^  305. 

*  Ibid.,  304.  5  Ibid,,  3-23. 


THE   TEUTONIC   LANGUAGES.  293 

idyll  of  Gndrun  and  Tlieodoric,  where  she  tells  her  story 
to  tlie  kiiig;^  the  ordeal  of  Gudrim,  an  episode  where 
she  refutes  the  slander  of  Attila's  mistress  against  her  ;  ^ 
the  lament  of  Oddrun,^  one  of  the  most  remarkable  of 
all  the  poems  for  the  originality  of  its  plot,  giving  a 
new  rendering  of  the  fall  of  Gudrun's  brothers,  told  in 
the  person  of  Oddrun,  whose  lover  was  Gunnar. .  Two 
poems  besides,  named,  after  Attila,  the  Atlakvi'^a^ 
and  the  Atlamdl,^  give  the  death  of  Gunnar  and  Hogni : 
in  each  of  the  several  versions  of  tin's  part  of  the 
story  there  is  a  different  conception  of  the  plot;  no 
two  agree  as  to  the  centre  of  interest.  The  Atlamdl, 
which  was  composed  in  Greenland  by  an  Icelandic 
settler  in  the  colony  there,  is  the  most  elaborate,  in 
some  ways,  of  the  whole  group,  the  furthest  removed 
from  the  simple  ways  and  unconscious  graces  of  ballad 
poetry.  It  is  evidently  based  upon  study  and  de- 
liberate criticism  of  the  older  poems  on  the  subjeet,  as 
a  modern  author  would  recast  and  reconstruct  the  plot 
of  some  established  story,  to  take  the  town  with  a  new 
Bon  Juan  or  Faust  or  King  Arthur.  It  has  the  faults 
of  this  kiiid  of  literature ;  it  is  too  heavily  weighted, 
too  slow.  But  it  is  the  work  of  a  strong  intelligence, 
who  perhaps,  like  Jonson,  liad  more  power  of  thought 
than  imagination,  and  more  imagination  than  could  be 
content  with  prose. 

In  all  the  Northern  literature  there  is  no  trace  of 
the  plot  which  ends  the  Nihelungen  Lied, — the  ven- 
geance of    Sigfred's   wife   upon  her   brothers  for  the 

1  C.  P.  B.,  i.  316.  2  i]^i(j,^  322.  3  n,icl.,  309. 

'i  Ibid.,  44.  5  ii^id,^  ;;.31. 


294        EUROPEAN   LITERATURE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

death  of  lier  busband, — except  in  cases  where  borrow- 
ing from  tlie  German  can  be  proved,  as  in  the  Danish 
ballad  of  Grimild's  Revenge.  The  North  keeps  to  an 
older  story  (which  of  course  came  from  Germany  to 
begin  with),  and  makes  Gudrun  the  defender  of  her 
brothers  against  Attila  —  whose  motives  are  not 
always  clear. 

The  manuscript  of  the  poetic  Edda  comes  to  an  end 

with  the  story  of  the  death  of  Ermanaric.     This  old 

heroic  theme,  known  to  Jordanes,  had  been 

ErrmnaHc.  .  ,  i       i-i       mi 

brought  into  the  Volsung  cycle,  like  llieo- 
doric  and  Attila.  Swanhild  was  the  daughter  of  Gud- 
run; trampled  to  death  by  horses  at  the  command  of 
her  husband,  the  tyrant  Ermanaric  the  Great ;  avenged 
by  her  brothers,  whose  Norse  names,  Hamther  and 
Sorli,  are  not  far  removed  from  the  Ammius  and 
Sarus  of  the  Gothic  historian  in  the  sixth  century. 
The  poem  called  the  old  Lay  of  Hamther,^  the  last 
in  the  book,  is  simpler  and  more  antique  in  character 
than  many  that  precede  it ;  the  last  words,  as  the 
brothers  fall,  are  such  as  were  repeated,  no  doubt, 
wherever  there  was  a  hall  and  a  minstrel  in  the  heroic 
age.  "We  liave  won  good  fame,  though  we  die  to-day 
or  to-morrow :  no  man  lives  out  the  eventide  when 
the  word  of  the  Norns  is  spoken." 

As  the  story  is  given  in  Codex  Regius,  the  old  lay  is 
introduced  and  partly  mixed  up  with  another  poem — 
Gudrun's  Chain  of  Woes,  an  idyllic  lament  in  which 

^  C.  p.  B.,  i.  52.  There  is  a  late  German  version  of  the  same  story, 
where  the  slayer  is  "  Dirick  van  dem  Berne,"  and  Ermanaric  has 
become  the  "  Koninck  van  Armentriken." 


THE   TEUTONIC   LANGUAGES.  295 

she  recounts  all  the  sorrow  of  her  life,  crying  out  to 
Sigurd  at  the  end,  *'  Eememberest  thou,  Sigurd,  what 
we  spake  when  we  were  together  in  one  bed,  that 
thou  wouldst  come  back  to  me  from  the  world  of 
death,  or  I  to  thee  from  the  livincj  world." 

Some  Northern  poems  have  already  been  mentioned 
which  are  not  found  in  Codex  Regius.  As  it  happens, 
the  poems  which  first  became  known  in  modern  times 
through  translations  from  Icelandic  were  from  various 
sources  other  than  the  poetic  Edda.  Gray's  Descent  of 
Odin  and  The  Fatal  Sisters,  and  that  Dying  Ode  of 
Eiignar  Lodbrok  which  set  up  the  romantic  standard 
of  the  ideal  Viking,  all  are  outside  the  famous  manu- 
script. So  also  is  the  poem  which  was  more  often  re- 
peated than  any  from  the  time  when  Dr  Hickes 
translated  it  in  his  Anglo-Saxon  grammar^ — the 
Incajitation  of  Eervor.  It  is  taken  from  the  Her- 
varar  Saga,  one  of  the  prose  legends  in  which  some 
old  verse  is  fortunately  included.  Earlier  than  the 
poem  of  Hervor  comes  the  death-song  of  Hialmar, 
his  farewell  and  his  charge  to  his  friend  Arrow-Odd. 
"The  King's  fair  daughter  sped  me  on  my  way,  the 
words  that  she  spake  to  me  when  she  told  me  that 
I  should  never  come  back  will  surely  prove  true. 
Carry  back  my  helmet  and  my  mail-coat  to  the 
king's  hall ;  the  heart  of  the  king's  daughter  will 
be  moved  when  she  sees  the  buckler  of  my  breast 
hewn  through.  Draw  the  red  ring  off  my  arm  and 
bear  it  to  the  young   Ingibiorg.     It  will  be  a  lasting 

^  Gramm.  Anglo- Saxon,  p.  193  (in  vol.  i.  of  the  Thesaurus)  :  Oxon. 
1703. 


296        EUllOPEAN    LITERATURE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

sorrow  of  heart  to  her  that  I  shall   never   come  to 
Upsala  again."  ^ 

Hervor  is  the  daughter  of  Angantyr,  whom  Hialmar 
and  Arrow-Odd  had  killed,  with  his  eleven  brothers,  in 
the  isle  of  Samsey.  She  comes  to  the  island 
to  her  lathers  grave,  to  get  irom  mm  the 
magic  sword,  Tyrfing,  forged  by  the  Dwarfs,  which 
brought  death  to  those  who  faced  it,  and  to  the  bearer 
of  it,  in  the  end,  as  well.  The  Awaking  of  Angantyr^ 
— the  poem  of  Hervor  at  her  father's  grave — is  not 
only  one  of  the  finest  works  of  the  heroic  age,  but 
something  that  makes  the  ordinary  formulas  of 
criticism  and  literary  history  look  out  of  place :  it  is 
not  an  antiquity.  It  is  so  simple,  so  true  in  thought, 
so  inexhaustible  in  wonder  and  pathos,  that  its  his- 
torical surroundings  are  forgotten.  The  heathenish 
myth  is  translated  into  poetry.  If  the  secret  of  it 
can  be  detected,  it  is  possibly  this,  that  the  legend- 
ary awe,  the  mystery  of  the  scene  where  Hervor  comes 
to  the  grave  and  calls  to  the  dead,  is  not  allowed 
to  take  full  command  of  the  poem :  under  all  this 
there  is  the  strain  of  the  drama  between  Hervor 
and  her  father.  She  stands,  as  she  puts  it  herself, 
"  between  the  worlds,"  in  a  homeless  place ;  but 
through  it  all  there  is  a  contest  of  will,  a  tide '  of 
passion,  a  human  soul ;  the  ghostly  teriior  is  not  the 
chief  thing,  compared  with  Hervor's  resolution  and 
the  reluctance  of  the  dead.  No  one  who  has  once 
known  the  poem  can  forget  the  strange,  impersonal, 
desolate  pity  that  makes  the  fatlier  in  his  grave 
^  0.  P.  B.,  i.  162.  '-^  Ibid.,  163. 


THE   TEUTONIC   LANGUAGES.     "  297 

refuse  to  give  up  to  Hervor  the  avenging  sword 
with  the  curse  upon  it :  why  should  she  die  ?  S%tnt 
aliquid  Manes :  the  dead  are  shut  up  in  the  tomb, 
cut  off  from  the  life  of  middle  earth;  even  if  the 
daughter's  voice  reach  them  t^hey  cannot  return. 
But  there  is  with  them  a  kind  of  thought,  a  spirit 
true  to  its  kindred.  This,  no  doubt,  has  always 
been  the  undefined  belief  of  the  greater  part  of 
mankind.  No  poem  has  succeeded  like  Hervor's  in 
expressing  it,  never  mistaking  the  separation  between 
the  dead  voice  and  the  living.  For  Hervor  is  none 
the  nearer  to  Angantyr,  though  he  answers  her. 

The  old  lay  of  Biarki  (Biarkamdl  in  fornu)  was 

sung  to  St  Olaf  and  his  men  on  the  morning  of  their 

last  battle  at  Stiklastad  in  1030,  and  the 

Biarkamal.  ti     i     .  -ttt     t  ?      /-<    n  j>i 

king  called  it  a  true  "  Workmen  s  Call.  ^ 
Little  of  it  is  left,  but  enough  to  show  its  character 
and  justify  St  Olaf's  criticism.^  It  is  curiously  like 
the  old  English  fragment  of  Finnesburh,  and  belongs 
to  a  battle  in  a  hall  of  the  same  epic  fashion.  King 
Hrolf  Kraki  (the  Hrodulf  of  Beoivulf)  is  attacked  in 
his  hall  at  daybreak  ;  Biarki  the  warder  rouses  the 
sleeping  house.  '*'  The  day  is  up,  the  cock's  feathers 
are  flapping ;  it  is  time  to  get  to  work.  Wake  and 
awake,  comrades  mine,  all  the  noblest  henchmen  of 
Adils,  .  .  .  Not  to  wine  do  I  wake  you,  nor  to  women's 
spell,  but  I  wake  you  to  the  stern  play  of  the  war- 
goddess."  For  the  rest  of  the  story  we  must  go  to 
the  prose  paraphrase  of  Hrolf's  Saga,  or  to  Saxo  Gram- 
maticus,  who  turned  it  into  Latin  hexameters.^  Con- 
1  a  P.  B.,  i.  188.  2  ibijj^^  ixvi.  2  See  above,  p.  83. 


298        EUKOPEAN   LITEKATUKE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

nected  with  the  same  cycle,  though  not  closely,  is  the 
Miil-soiig  of  Frodi  on  the  magic  Mill  that  ground  gold 
and  peace,  turned  by  the  two  Valkyrias  Fenja  and 
Menja. 

A  famous  visionary  poem,  with  some  likeness  to  the 
Mill-song,  is  the  Song  of  the  Dart — 7%e  Fatal  Sisters. 
The  story  of  it  may  be  read  in  Burnt  Njal.  There  is 
a  reflection  of  it  in  one  of  the  portents  of  Sturlunga 
Saga,  where  two  witches  are  seen  in  a  house,  rocking 
to  and  fro,  while  blood  drips  on  them  from  the  roof, 
singing  "  Eow  we,  row  we.  a  rain  of  blood,  Gunna  and 
Gondul ! "  1 

A  shorter  variety  of  the  epic  line  came  into  favour 
for  many  purposes  in  the  North,  and  is  found  in 
epitaphs  and  improvisations  as  well  as  more  elaborate 
work.^  It  is  used  in  the  Ynglingatal  of  'J'hiodulf,  a 
genealogical  poem  on  the  royal  house  of  Norway,  the 
foundation  of  the  prose  Ynglinga  Saga  which  precedes 
the  historical  Kings'  Lives.^  And  Egil  Skallagrim 
takes  this  verse  for  his  poem  to  Arinbiorn  and  the 
lament  over  his  own  sons'  death.  This  latter  poem, 
the  Sonatorrek,'^  is  one  of  the  classical  poems  of  Iceland, 
by  one  of  the  great  adventurers.  The  prose  story  in 
Egii'siament  Egil's  Saga,  and  the  poem  itself,  represent 
for  Ms  sons,  ^^q  different  kinds  of  art  at  a  point  not  far 
from  perfection — the  dramatic  history  and  the  lyrical 
expression  of  sorrow.  There  is  a  strong  contrast 
between  the  peculiar   Icelandic  method  of  narrative 

1  C.  P.  B.,  i.  360. 

^  Known  later  in  Iceland  as  the  "  Fairy  Measure  "  (Ijujlinga  hdttr), 

'^  C.  P.  B.,  ii.  655.  *  Ibid.,  621. 


THE  TEUTONIC  LANGUAGES.  299 

—SO  scrupulous  in  letting  the  characters  speak  for 
themselves,  so  determined  to  keep  the  author's  private 
sentiments  from  interfering — and  the  lyrical  grief  of 
Egil's  poem.  This  also  is  kept  within  limits;  it  is 
no  more  effusive  or  thoughtless  than  Lycidas.  But 
the  meaning  of  it  is  sincere,  and  it  has  all  the  pathos, 
the  eloquence  of  feeling,  the  personal  tone,  that  is 
generally  so  carefully  refused  by  the  authors  of  prose 
stories  in  Iceland.  The  Saga  of  Egil,  as  the  Oxford 
editors  of  his  poetry  remark,  has  done  injustice  to  his 
character,  making  him  too  much  of  a  mere  fighting 
man.  But  in  this  passage,,  describing  his  sorrow  and 
the  occasion  of  the  Sonatorrek,  his  resolution  to  keep 
from  meat  and  drink,  and  the  way  his  daughter  Thor- 
gerd  wiled  him  out  of  it,  his  unwilling  recourse  to 
poetry  and  the  growing  interest  in  life  as  his  verse 
went  on  shaping  itself, —  here  there  is  one  of  the 
memorable  things  of  Iceland.  The  house  of  Borg, 
the  firth  where  Egil's  son  was  drowned,  and  the 
headland  where  his  father  was  buried,  are  full  of  the 
memories  of  Icelandic  history.  For  the  sake  of  the 
Sonatorrek,  even  a  stranger  may  pay  liis  regard  there. 

The  old  epic  measures  and  the  gnomic  verse  were 
not  suppressed  by  the  new  Court  poetry.  On  the 
contrary,  "new."  as  applied  to  the  Court  poetry, 
means  "  later  in  order  of  development, '  and  not 
later  in  order  of  time,  with  regard  to  much  of  the 
epic  verse.  For  instance,  whatever  poetry  was  written 
in  Greenland  besides  the  Greenland  poem  of  the 
Niblungs'  fall  must  needs  be  later  than  the  Court 
poetry  of  Harald  Eaii  hair's  time,  when  even  Iceland 


300        EUROPEAN    Ll'JEUATURE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

was  barely  settled  ;  not  to  speak  of  the  Court  verse  of 
Bragi  the  Old,  which  is  of  the  time  of  Eagnar  Lodbrok, 
if  tales  are  true. 

The  old  measures  were  employed  sometimes  for 
Court  purposes,  as  in  Gisl  lllugason's  praise  of  Magnus 
Bareleg,^  and  the  striking  poem  of  Tvar  Ingimund's 
son  on  Sigurd  Slembe,'^  which  is  so  far  uncburtiy  as  to 
glorify  a  lost  cause  and  a  fallen  adventurer.  And 
earlier  than  that,  some  of  the  older  forms  were  used 
with  a  curious  irregularity  by  Court  poets  who  wrote 
correct  verse  of  the  new  type  when  they  chose.  There 
are  three  poems  of  this  kind,  all  interesting  in  more 
ways  than  one — the  Eaven  Song  by  Hornklofi; 
Eiriksmdl,  the  praise  of  Eric  Bloodaxe  (anonymous) 
and  HdJconarmdl,  the  praise  of  Hacon,  Athelstan's 
The  Eaven  Son  ^^sterling,  by  Eyviud  Skaldaspillir.^  The 
Biriksn.ai,  Eavcn  Soug  in  houour  of  Harald  Fairhair 
IS  a  conversation  between  a  Kaven  and  a 
beautiful  Finnish  Vaikyria  who  knew  the  language 
of  birds;  the  matter  of  it  is  Harald's  exploits  and 
the  fashions  of  his  court,  the  great  battle  of  Hafrs- 
firth  and  the  manners  of  Harald's  poets,  berserks, 
jesters,  and  jugglers.  Much  of  it  reminds  one  of  the 
old  Latin  satire — the  mixture  of  subjects,  the  irregular 
verse,  the  descriptive  terms  in  it.  Eiriksmdl  also, 
about  fifty  years  later,  like  the  Hdkonarmdl,  a  little 
later  still,  interchanges  two  kinds  of  measure — the 
longer  narrative  line  called  mdlahdttr,  and  the  dialogue 
verse  of  the  Elder  Edda.  The  praise  of  Eric  Bloodaxe 
is  a  variation  from  the  common  type  of  Court  poem  ; 

'  a  P.  B.,  ii.  240.  2  Hjij_^  261.  3  jtjij_^  i  251-266. 


THE  TEUTONIC   LANGUAGES.  301 

not  a  rhetorical  recitation  of  a  kino's  exploits,  but  a 
dramatic  idyll  of  the  reception  of  Eric  in  Valhalla. 
He  is  welcomed  there  as  a  new  champion  to  tight  in 
the  last  battle  with  the  Wolf,  in  the  twilight  of  the 
gods.  Odin  sends  Sigmund  and  Sinfiotli  to  meet  him. 
"Kise  up  in  haste  and  go  forth  to  meet  the  prince! 
Bid  him  in,  if  it  be  Eric,  for  it  is  he  whom  I  look  for." 
Sigmund  asks:  "Why  didst  thou  rob  him  of  victory, 
seeing  thou  thoughtest  him  so  brave  ? "  Odin  answers : 
''  Because  it  is  not  -surely  to  be  known  when  the  grey 
AVolf  shall  come  upon  the  seat  of  the  gods."  ^  So,  also, 
in  Eyvind's  poem,  Hacon  is  received  by  Hermod  and 
Bragi. 

In  style  Ihese  three  poems  are  a  strong  contrast  to 
the  Court  poetry;  taken  by  themselves,  and  judged  in 
their  form  alone,  they  would  be  placed  at  once  in  an 
older  period.  The  difference  between  their  freedom 
and  the  artifice  of  the  Court  poetry  may  serve  as  a 
warning  of  the  danger  there  is  in  this  kind  of  internal 
evidence  when  it  is  used  to  determine  dates.  Horn- 
klofi  and  Eyvind  both  wrote,  when  they  chose,  the 
elaborate  correct  verse  which  looks  so  much  later  in 
character.  When  they  took  up  the  freer  verse  for  a 
change,  they  became  openly  lawless,  as  if  they  were 
breaking  out  of  scliool  and  found  it  pleasant.  They 
are  like  Chaucer,  taking  a  holiday  from  his  artistic 
conscience  in  the  random  narrative  and  wilfully  care- 
less verse  of  the  House  of  Fame. 

The  Court  poetry  of  the  North  is  different  in  verse 
and  style  from  anything  in  England  or  Germany.     In 

^  a  P.  B.,  i.  261. 


302        EUKOrEAN    LITERATURE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

motive,  of  course,  it  is  allied  to  many  poems  all  over 

the  world   in   praise  of   living   kings    or   their  dead 

^^  ,       ^    fathers.     But  the  form  is  peculiar  to  Nor- 

The  laws  of  *• 

Court-verse  wRj.  The  name  for  the  regular  measure 
07  way.  ^Qg^  -jj  fg^vour  is  drdttkvcett, — from  d^dtt,  a 
court  or  a  great  man's  household — the  Anglo-Saxon 
drylit.  "  Court "  verse  is  not  merely  a  modern  in- 
vented name,  nor  derived  entirely  from  the  curiales 
of  the  "  courtly  makers "  of  later  days  and  more 
Southern  schools.  It  is  a  fair  translation  of  the 
Norse  technical  term.  The  stave,  as  generally  in  the 
Eddie  poems  also,  is  of  eight  lines.  In  each  stave 
there  are  four  alliterative  groups  of  tw^o  lines  each, 
every  pair  of  lines  corresponding,  as  to  alliteration, 
with  the  old  Teutonic  full  line,  and  keeping  the  rule 
of  three  alliterative  syllables — two  in  the  first  half, 
one  in  the  second.  But  the  measure  is  new.  Each 
line  has  six  syllables,  ending  always  in  a  trochee. 
The  first  four  syllables  have  no  regular  measure 
beyond  what  is  found  in  the  old  epic  verse.  Further, 
there  is  rhyme  within  the  line — the  second  rhyming 
syllable  being  the  first  of  the  final  trochee.  For 
instance,  from  Sigvat's  poem  on  St  Olaf,  the  verse 
on  the  battle  at  London  Bridge : — 

"Rett  es  at  sokii  en  setta  ; 
Snarr  ]?engill  baiiS  Englum 
At  ]?ars  Olafr  sotti, 
Yggs,  Lunduna  bryggjur  : 
SverS  bitu  Vcilsk,  enn  vor5u 
Vikingar  l?ar  Diki : 
Atti  sumt  i  slettu 
SiiSvirki  h^  buSir." 


THE  TEUTONIC  LANGUAGES.  303 

It  is  difficult  to  imitate  in  English  : — 

"Burden'd,  dull,  the  bard  is 
Beaten  bj'^  the  antique  metre; 
Hoarse  and  harsh  the  verses 
Halt,  the  meosures  falter  : 
Ah  !  the  mead  of  Odin, 
Uiideprav'd,  abundant  ! 
Would  we  not  use  it  wisely, 
Well,  the  key  of  thy  cellar  ? " 

In  metaphor,  the  old  practice  of  the  epic  poetry 
was  continued.  The  artist  had  to  use  the  finest  pos- 
sible language.  The  alliterative  mode  had  always  re- 
quired a  great  variety  of  synonyms  and  a  large 
number  of  figurative  terms.  But  the  Court  poets 
went  far  beyond  the  practice  of  the  older  schools ; 
their  metaphorical  terms  were  extended  systemati- 
cally by  a  process  which  went  on  doubling  figure 
on  figure  till  the  simple  idea  became  undecipherable 
under  the  wrappings.  It  was  an  old  tradition  of 
the  Teutonic  gradus  (as  of  all  heroic  poetry)  to  use 
"gold-giver,"  or  "ring-distributer,"  or  some  phrase 
of  that  sort,  for  "king"  or  "prince."  This  was  de- 
veloptjd  in  the  following  way :  "giver"  was  rendered 
by  any  synonym  that  offered  itself;  "gold"  was  para- 
phrased mythologically — e.g.,  as  "  the  light  of  the  hall 
of  ^gir,"  the  Sea  -  God  (because  ^gir  was  rich). 
Then  this  might  be  further  variegated  by  combina- 
tions of  all  possible  terms  for  "light"  with  all  terms 
for  "sea."  "Dispenser  of  the  candles  of  the  fish's 
way  "  is  an  elementary  specimen. 

The-  Icelandic  art  of  poetry  agrees  with  Aristotle 
and   Dante,   as   against   Wordsworth,  in   demanding 


304        EUPvOPEAN    LITERATURE — THE    DARK   AGES. 

that  poetical  language  shall  not  be  that  of  ordinary 
conversation.  But  it  goes  somewhat  beyond  them  in 
its  love  of  ornament.  The  extremes  that  Aristotle 
calls  "jargon"^  and  "enigma,"  coming  respectively 
from  (1)  strange  single  vs^ords  and  (2)  excess  of 
metaphor,  are  the  cherished  ideals  of  the  Northern 
Court  poetry,  as  they  are  in  a  less  degree  v^ith  the 
Teutonic  school  in  general.  The  examples  of  meta- 
phor that  Aristotle  gives  might  have  been  accepted 
by  Snorri  Sturluson  for  the  Icelandic  Poetics  of  the 
Edda.  "  The  cup  is  to  Dionysus  as  the  shield  to 
Ares.  The  cup  may  therefore  be  called  the  shield 
of  Dionysus,  and  the  shield  the  cup  of  Ares."  ^  This, 
tliough  of  course  very  rudimentary,  v^^ould  be  recognised 
in  Iceland  as  showing  the  right  spirit.  But  possibly 
the  Stagyrite  might  object  if  the  Icelander  pro- 
posed to  call  a  woman  "  pine-tree  of  the  shield  of 
Dionysus,"  on  the  principle  that  ''cupbearer"  in 
poetry  means  "woman,"  and  that  "woman"  in 
poetry  may  be  denoted  by  any  feminine  tree  with 
the  proper  epithet  following.  There  is  a  difference 
of  taste  here. 

It  would  not  be  right  to  pass  over  the  Court  poets 
as  mere  bad  examples  of  a  mechanical  and  conven- 
tional school.  There  are  a  great  many  of  them,  and 
a  great  variety  of  gifts.  They  have  the  strength  of 
composers  who  are  sure  of  their  audience.  It  was  not 
merely  a  learned  art ;  it  was  admired  and  praised  like 
other  games,  and  was  widely  popular,  as  well  as 
courtly.       England,    where    poetry    has    never    been 

*  fiapPapicTfjLos  :  Poetics,  c.  xxii.  ^  Poetics,  c.  xxi. 


THE   TEUTONIC   LANGUAGES.  305 

taken  in  this  way,  is  the  last  country  to  pass  judg- 
ment on  these  spirited  poetical  diversions.  Court 
verse  did  not  hinder  the  poets  from  saying  what 
they  meant,  It  was  used  in  many  pleasant  ways,  for 
epigrams  and  occasional  poems,  much  of  the  same 
kind  as  the  rhyming  epigrams  of  modern 

Epigrams.  ,  o      x    o 

Iceland  in  Dr  Gudbrand  Vi<j,fusson's  small 
anthology.^  It  would  be  unjust  not  to  recognise  the 
freedom  and  liveliness  that  could  turn  any  motive  or 
incident  into  a  Court-verse  stanza.  These  poems  were 
remembered  and  admired  in  a  natural  way  by  men 
who  were  neither  poets  nor  courtiers  themselves.  The 
Icelandic  familiarity  with  verse  is  shown  very  well 
in  an  incident  of  the  Vatnsdcela  Saga  (c.  26),  where 
Thorstein  sends  his  shepherd  to  iind  out  what  is 
passing  in  his  enemy's  house.  The  shepherd  was  to 
knock  at  the  door,  and  notice  what  time  was  taken 
before  the  door  was  opened.  To  measure  the  time 
he  repeats  stanzas  (visur),  twelve  of  them.  Thorstein 
drew  his  own  conclusions  from  the  delay — rightly,  as 
later  inquiry  proved. 

The  Court  poets  were  often  political,  like  those  of 
Provence  and  Germany  about  the  same  time.  The 
methods  of  Bertran  de  Born,  or  Sordello,  or  Walther 
von  der  Vogelweide  in  dealing  with  public  affairs  are 
not  unknown  in  Norway.  For  one  thing,  the  Icelandic 
poets  had  studied  in  their  own  manner  the  poem  that 
is  meant  for  direct  assault,  like  the  Provencal  sirventes, 
not  to  speak  of  Archilochus  or  Catullus.  One  of  them 
was  called  Serpent-tongue  (Worm-tongue,  Ormstunga), 

1  "  One  Hundred  Rhyme -Ditties,"  C.  P.  B.,  ii.  408-418. 

U 


306         EUROPEAN    LITERATURE — THE    DARK   AGES. 

and  the  name  was  deserved  by  many  more.     It  was 

also  possible  to  state  a  political  cause  effectively  and 

fully,  and  make  the  Court-verse  deliver  an 

Ly7-ic  Satire. 

uncourtly  admonition  to  a  king,  as  was 
done  by  Sigvat  in  his  Plain-speaker  (Bersoglis  Visur)} 
This  is  an  expostulation  with  King  Magnus  Olafsson, 
telling  him  the  truth  about  his  "  governance,"  and 
remindimj  him  of  the  or i spinal  contract  with  his 
people.  In  this  case  the  Whigs  had  the  best  of  it, 
and  the  king  no  dishonour  either :  he  listened  and 
was  converted,  and  bore  no  malice.  The  poem  has 
other  merits  besides  its  practical  effect.  The  lan- 
guage is  clear,  and  there  is  imagination  in  the  treat- 
ment of  the  political  motive.  Sigvat  dwells  on  the 
tradition  of  the  good  kings  of  Norway,  on  his  own 
service  with  St  Olaf,  his  own  loyalty  to  Magnus,  the 
danger  of  revolt,  and,  most  impressive  of  all,  the  gait 
and  demeanour  of  the  franklins  in  their  sullen  dis- 
content, their  heads  sunk  in  ihe  folds  of  their  cloaks, 
thinking  evil  of  the  king. 

If  the  poetry  is  often  difficult  and  conventional, 
the  lives  of  the  poets,  on  the  otlier  hand,  are  full 
of  character,  like  the  Proven9al  poets  with  whom 
they  have  so  much  affinity.  Their  adventures  are 
among  the  best  things  in  Icelandic  prose.  Hallfred 
the  Troublesome  Poet,  Sigvat,  Gisl  Illugason,  Einar 
Skulason,  are  not  mere  names.  The  prefaces  to  the 
different  chapters  in  the  Oxford  Corpus  show  what 
the  Court  poets  were:  few  of  them  aie  slow.  Some 
of   the  kings  themselves    are   among   them, — Harald 

1  C.  P.  B.,  ii.  145.     The  date  is  about  1039. 


I 


THE  TEUTONIC  LANGUAGES.  307 

Hardrada,  for  instance,  and  Magnus  Bareleg.  Harald 
put  his  own  life  into  verse :  the  poem  has  been  trans- 
lated in  a  freer  measure,  which  avoids  some  of  the 
encumbrances  of  the  Court  rhetoric,  but  does  not  mis- 
represent the  spirit  of  the  original.^  Court  verse  was 
sometimes  used  in  a  prosaic  way  from  narrative  poetry, 
as  in  the  Fldcitus  Drdpa^  which  is  the  legend  of 
St  Eustace. 

German  prose  begins  with  Ulfilas.  The  Gothic 
Bible  was  not  forgotten ;  in  tlie  ninth  century  Wala- 

Prose—      fi'id  Strabo  recognised  it  as  a  great  work. 

Ulfilas.  ji^s  value,  however,  is  something  apart  from 
literature.  Ulfilas  found  Gothic  words  for  the  Greek, 
but  he  did  not  write  Gothic  sentences..  Regard  for  the 
text,  fear  of  corrupting  the  meaning,  made  liim  keep 
to  the  Greek  order.  The  result  is  not  idiomatic. 
UJiilas  has  naturally  been  found  most  profitable  by 
philologists  who  are  interested  in  separate  words  rather 
than  in  sentences. 

In  Anglo-Saxon  prose  there  is  a  tendency  to  copy 
Latin  constructions,  as  there  is  also,  later,  in  the  first 
Wycliffite  translation  of  the  Bible.     But  i^nglo-Saxon 

1  "  We  were  sixteen  lads  a- baling  together,  O  lady  gay, 

And  the  sea  grew  liigh  and  the  billows  on  the  i  ark  broke  grim  and  grey ; 
Little  the  loitering  laggard  would  haste  to  such  a  play, 

Yet  gold-decked  Gerda  of  Russia  has  naught  but  scorn  for  me ! 

"I  was  born  where  far  in  the  Uj'lands  men  bend  the  twanging  bow, 
But  now  I  sweep  past  the  skerries,  and  the  farmers  my  galley  know, 
And  wide,  since  I  first  sped  seaward,  I  have  cloven  the  sea  with  my  prow, 
Yet  gold-decked  Gerda  of  Russia  has  naught  but  scorn  for  me  ! " 

— Gisli  Sursson,  by  Beatrice  Helen  Barinby,  1900. 

^  Ed.  Finnur  Jonsson,  Opiiscxda  Phihlogica :  Copenhagen,  1887. 


308        EUROPEAN    LITERATURE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

prose  is  often  free  enough  from  this  bondai^e,  both  in 
the  Chronicle,  where  the  grammar  is  natural  and  un- 
studied, and  also  in  such  work  as  ^! trie's,  where  the 
autlior  was  too  good  a  scholar  to  distort  his  native 
language. 

The  Chronicle'^  is  the  first  great  prose  book  in 
English :  the  earliest  parts  of  it  are  the  best,  belonging 
The  English  ^0  the  time  of  Alfred,  and  probably  from 
Chronicle,  j^jg  q^j^  hand.  Kiug  Alfred  was  a  trans- 
lator, and  his  style  varies  with  that  of  his  authors. 
But  there  is  always  something  fresh  and  native  in  his 
composition ;  and  when  he  is  left  free  from  translation 
his  prose  is  strong  and  sound.  The  narratives  of  the 
sea-captains,  Ohthere  and  Wulfstan,  which  he  put  into 
his  Orosius,  are  more  modern  in  st\  le  than  the  prose 
of  Chaucer  or  Caxton.  The  Danish  wars  in  the 
Chronicle  are  recounted  in  the  same  stiaightforward 
way.  And  after  the  time  of  Alfred,  down  to  the 
Norman  Conquest,  the  writers  of  the  Chronicle  retain 
the  gift  of  direct  and  simple  style.  Tiiere  is  not 
enough  of  it;  but  it  is  good  in  itselP,  and  refreshing 
by  comparison  with  the  various  sorts  of  quaintness 
found  in  most  of  the  Latin  work  of  the  time.  That 
the  Latin  historians  could  be  lively  and  interesting 
has  been  fully  acknowledged  already  ;  but  there  is  a 
\*irtue  in  the  living  lanouage  which  nut  even  the 
Latin  of  Bede  could  equal. 

The  style  of  the  Chronicle  varies.     One  passage  has 
been  singled  out  for  praise  by  many  students  of  Anglo- 

^  The  composition  of  the  Chronicle  has  been  elaborately  studied  and 
clearly  explained  in  Mr  Plummer's  Introduction,  Oxford,  1899. 


THE   TEUTONIC   LANGUAGES.  309 

Saxon, — the  episode  of  Cyiiewulf  and  Cyneheard,  which 
some  have  taken  for  a  prose  version  of  a  ballad.  It 
certainly  has  the  features  of  heroic  narrative;  the 
promise,  unfulfilled,  of  an  English  body  of  stories  like 
the  Icelandic  Sagas.  It  is  a  tale  like  that  of  Finnes- 
burh,  or  Eoland,  or  Parcy  Eeed,  a  good  defence  against 
enemies,  an  old  motive  repeated  often  enough  in  real 
conflicts  without  a  poet  to  record  the  tragedy,  and 
never  so  often  repeated  in  prose  or  rhyme  as  to  lose 
its  interest  or  its  dignity. 

Alfred  translated  Gregory's  Pastoral  Care}  and  wrote 
a  preface  on  his  motives  and  method ;  rendering  the 
original  "  sometimes  word  for  word  and 
sometimes  sense  for  sense,  as  I  learned 
from  Plegmund  my  Archbishop  and  Asser  my  Bishop, 
and  Grimbold  my  mass -priest  and  John  my  mass- 
priest."  In  the  other  translations  the  king  gives  no 
account  of  himself;  but  his  hand  is  plain  in  Orosms^ 
adding  the  reports  of  his  navigators,  Ohthere  and 
Wulfstan.  There  are  many  other  additions,  probably 
taken  from  a  commentary  on  Orosius,  some  of  them 
interesting,  like  the  reference  to  Nectanebus  in  the 
history  of  Alexander,  and  to  the  serpent  ipnalis  that 
lulls  asleep,  in  the  death  of  Cleopatra.  The  Boethius^ 
is  naturally  different  in  style  from  the  Orosius,  and 
much  more  original,  making  a  new  kind  of  chanting 
prose  out  of  the  poems  in  the  book,  more  like  the 
tone  of  old  French  romance  than  the  conventional 
Anglo-Saxon  rhetoric.     In  one  of  the  two  manuscripts 

1  Ed.  H.  Sweet,  E.E.T.S.,  1871.        ^  Ed.  H.  Sweet,  E.E.T.S.,  1883. 
s  Ed.  Sedgefield,  Oxford,  1899. 


310        EUEOPEAN   LITERATURE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

the  poenis  are  translated  in  verse ;  the  history  of  the 
two  rendti lings  is  much  disputed.  Alfred  also  made 
a  translation  from  the  Soliloquies  of  St  Augustine 
under  the  title  Blostman'^  (Flores),  in  three  books, 
with  a  good  deal  taken  from  other  authors,  besides 
original  matter  of  his  own. 

There  are  some  difficulties  about  the  authorship 
of  the  Bede,  thougli  it  is  attributed  to  Alfred  by 
^Ifric.  From  cenaiti  elements  in  the  vocabulary 
it  has  been  surmised  that  the  translation  is  of 
Mercian  origin,  and  not  by  the  West  Saxon  king.^ 
The  style  is  unequal,  showing  sometimes  a  most 
helpless  dependence  on  the  Latin,  sometimes  a  talent 
for  free  decoration,  especially  in  the  regular  use  of 
pleonasm,  putting  two  epithets  for  one.^ 

The  Dialogues  of  Gregory^  were  translated  for 
Alfred  by  Bishop  Wa3rferth  of  Worcester.  The 
stories  being  various  and  interesting  might  have 
put  it  into  the  head  of  some  Anglo-Saxon  reader 
to  compose  other  tales  on  his  own  account.  But 
the  example  was  not  followed.  There  were  many 
chances,  one  might  think,  that  an  original  school  of 
prose  romance  should  have  been  formed  in  England : 
an  impulse  might  have  been  given  by  the  trans- 
lation of  Alexander's  Epistle;  the  old  English 
Apollonius   of  Tyre^  might   have   founded  an   order 

^  Cockayne,  The  Shrine;  also  in  Englische  Shidien,  xviii. 

2  See  Miller's  edition,  E.E.T.S.  (1890),  and  Schipper's,  Bibliothek  dcr 
angelsdchsischen  Prosa,  iv.  (1899). 

^  Rhetoric  in  the  translation  of  Bede,  by  J.  M.  Hart,  in  An  English 
Miscellany,  1901. 

•*  See  above,  p.  136  sq.  ^  Ed.  Thorpe  ;  ed.  Zupitza,  Archiv  xcii. 


THE   TEUTONIC   LANGUAGES.  311 

of  Euphuist  fiction  before  the  Conquest.  But  though 
patterns  of  story-telling  were  plentiful  enough,  the 
Anglo-Saxons  would  not  be  stirred  to  practise  this 
kind  of  invention,  in  prose  at  any  rate.  Curiosity 
was  wanting;  there  was  no  one  to  explore  or  to 
make  experiments,  .and  with  all  their  command  of 
prose  diction  the  Anglo  -  Saxons  failed.  Their 
preachers  could  tell  stories ;  before  ^Ifric  and  with 
a  ruder  style  the  Blickling  Homilies'^  show  that  there 
was  a  habit  of  good  narrative,  an  established  form. 
But  it  was  limited  in  its  range ;  there  was  no  Anglo- 
Saxon  Edda,  no  family  history  like  the  Icelandic, 
no  fairy  tales  like  the  Welsh  or  Irish.  Anglo- 
Saxon  prose,  however,  if  less  interesting  than  Norse 
and  Celtic,  is  at  least  capable  and  intelligent.  It 
could  say  anything  for  which  it  had  a  mind,  and 
a  hundred  years  after  Alfred  it  attained  a  dignity 
and  security  of  style  not  common  in  the  Middle 
Ages.  ^Ifric's  Homilies^  are  not  original, 
— few  mediaeval  sermons  are.  But  his  easy 
style  makes  them  good  literature.  He  is  not  con- 
strained by  the  example  of  Latin  syntax ;  he  is  not 
tripped  up,  as  the  earlier  prose  often  is,  by  a  tangle 
of  clauses.  He  explains  and  discourses  clearly ;  his 
sympathy  for  his  hearers  and  his  unfailing  sense  of 
their  demands  and  capacities  is  like  the  urbanity  of 
French  literature.  At  the  same  time  something  of  a 
different  taste  is  shown  in  another  kind  of  composi- 
tion, the  florid   alliterative   half -poetical   homilies  or 

1  Ed.  Morris,  E.E.T.S.,  1880. 

2  Ed.  Thorpe,  for  the  iElfric  Society.     2  vols.,  1844-1816. 


Mljric.  '^ 


312        EUEOPEAN    LITERATURE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

saints'  lives  of  ^Ifric.^  His  plain  prose  is  modern  in 
character  ;  the  other  kind  is  a  concession  to  mediseval 
rhetoric.  Here  again  ^Ifric's  motive  was  probably 
the  wants  of  his  congregation;  this  sounding  stuff 
was  what  people  liked  in  their  sermons  for  a  change, 
something  more  musical  and  pompous  than  ordinary 
speaking. 

A  number  of  homilies  are  attributed  to  Wulfstan, 

Archbishop  of  York  (1002-1023),2  the  best  known  of 

them  and  the  most  remarkable  being  the 

Wulfstan.  T        •        1      A       1 

bermo  Lupi  ad  Anglos,  an  address  to  the 
English  nation  when  the  Danish  affliction  was  sorest, 
in  the  year  1014.  In  no  composition  is  the  chanting 
rhetoric  of  the  Anglo-Saxons  better  applied  than  here; 
it  is  a  true  prophetic  voice  that  here  laments  over  the 
sorrow  and  shame  of  Encrland. 

In  Icelandic,  as  in  Irish  and  Welsh,  there  is  some 
danger  that  the  interest  of  the  heathen    mythology 

and  the  national  history  may  give  a  wrong 

Icelandic  Prose.      ,  .  ./  j    n  o 

View  of  literary  progress,  by  keeping  out  of 
sight  the  school  work  in  which  it  began.  The  oldest 
Norse  and  Icelandic  manuscripts  do  not  contain  the 
fortunes  of  Odin  nor  the  family  histories  of  the  tenth 
century,  but  saints'  lives  and  homilies  :  there  is  an  older 
extant  text  for  Fldcikls  Drdpa,  the  poem  on  St  Eustace, 
than  for  Volospd ;  and  if  this  be  thought  merely  an 
accident,  as  indeed  it  is,  there  is  the  fact  that 
Thorodd  the  Grammarian,  a  skilled  phil9logist,  lived 

1  Ed.  Skeat,  E.E.T.S. 

2  Ed.   Napier   (1883)  ;   see   also   Napier,   Ueher  die  wcrTce  des  ae. 
erzhischofs  Wulfstan,  1882. 


THE   TEUTONIC   LANGUAGES.  313 

in  Iceland  a  hundred  years  before  Snorri  Sturluson, 
the  author  of  the  Edda.  The  prose  of  Iceland,  as 
of  Ireland  and  Wales,  has  the  common  learned  founda- 
tion :  the  Icelandic  authors  knew  the  books  that 
were  known  in  every  school.  The  commonplaces  of 
homilies  and  saints'  lives  were  written  down  in 
Iceland  before  the  great  Sagas.  The  Sagas  are  not 
by  any  means  pure  Northern  work  outside  of  the 
common  literary  influences ;  their  independence  is 
not  an  ignorant  barbarism.  If  they  comply  little 
with  the  ordinary  tone  of  Latin  education  it  is  be- 
cause their  authors  made  it  so,  and  not  because 
their  authors  wanted  the  regular  book-learning. 

How  Iceland  shared  in  all  the  mediaeval  common- 
places is  shown  most  plainly  in  the  contents  of 
"  Hank's  book,"  a  miscellaneous  volume,  the  library, 
in  fact,  of  an  Icelandic  gentleman.^  It  includes 
Volospd  and  the  Zandndmahok,  but  besides  these  a 
great  heap  of  mediaeval  things  of  the  usual  sort — 
the  tale  of  Troy,  Geoffrey  of  Monmouth,  the  favourite 
popular  science  of  Mucidarium.  The  Sagas  did  not 
take  up  the  whole  mind  of  Iceland.  Iceland  was 
part  of  Christendom,  and  shared  in  the  same  tastes 
as  France  or  Germany.  The  Sagas,  however,  when 
all  is  said,  are  not  any  the  less  wonderful,  Icelandic 
prose  is  not  depreciated,  because  of  this  common 
Latin  culture.  The  miracle  is  greater  when  it  is 
seen  that  the  originality  of  the  Iceland  narratives 
was  exposed  to  the  same  educational  danger  as  had 
hindered  the  growth  of  old  English  prose  and  all  but 

1  Ed.  Finiiur  Jonsson,  1892-1896. 


314        EUliOPEAN    LITERATURE — THE    DARK   AGES. 

choked  the  old  German — the  danger  of  conformity  to 
a  droning  school  tradition. 

The  whole  of  Icelandic  history  is  miraculous.  A 
number  of  barbarian  gentlemen  leave  Norway  because 
the  government  there  is  becoming  civilised  and  inter- 
fering; they  settle  in  Iceland  because  they  want 
to  keep  what  they  can  of  the  unreformed  past,  the 
old  freedom.  It  looks  like  anarchy.  But  immed- 
iately they  begin  to  frame  a  Social  Contract  and  to 
make  laws  in  the  most  intelligent  manner :  a  colonial 
agent  is  sent  back  to  the  Mother  Country  to  study 
law  and  present  a  report.  They  might  have  sunk 
into  mere  hard  work  and  ignorance,  contending  with 
the  difficulties  of  their  new  countiy ;  they  might  have 
become  boors,  without  a  history,  without  a  ballad. 
In  fact,  the  Iceland  settlers  took  with  them  the  in- 
tellect of  Norway ;  tliey  wrote  the  history  of  the 
kings  and  the  adventures  of  the  t^ods.  Tlie  settle- 
ment  of  Iceland  looks  like  a  furious  plunge  of  angry 
and  intemperate  chiefs,  away  from  order  into  a  grim 
and  reckless  land  of  Cockayne.  The  truth  is  that 
those  rebels  and  their  commonwealth  were  more  self- 
possessed,  more  clearly  conscious  of  their  own  aims, 
more  critical  of  their  own  achievements,  than  any 
polity  on  earth  since  the  fall  of  Athens.  Iceland, 
t<liough  the  country  is  large,  has  always  been  like 
a  city  state  in  many  of  its  ways ;  the  small  popula- 
tion, though  widely  scattered,  was  not  broken  up, 
and  the  four  quarters  of  Iceland  took  as  much 
interest  in  one  another's  gossip  as  the  quarters  of 
Florence.      In  the  Sagas,  where  notliing  is  of  much 


THE   TEUTONIC   LANGUAGES.  315 

importance  except  individual  men,  and  where  all  the 
chief  men  are  known  to  one  another,  a  journey  from 
Borg  to  Eyjafirth  is  no  more  than  going  past  a  few 
houses.  The  distant  corners  of  the  island  are  near  one 
another.  There  is  no  sense  of  those  impersonal  forces, 
those  nameless  multitudes,  that  make  history  a  differ- 
ent thing  from  biography  in  other  lands.  All  history 
in  Iceland  shaped  itself  as  biography,  or  as  drama,  and 
there  was  no  large  crowd  at  the  back  of  tlie  stage. 

Historical   writing  in   Iceland   began   without  any 

tentative  preliminary  work;   Ari,  the  first  historian 

(1067-1148),   is  sure   in  his   methods  and 

AH  the  Wise,   ^^^-j^-^^  -^^  j^-g  i-gguits.     He  wrotc  a  book 

about  the  settlement  of  Iceland,  the  foundation  of 
the  extant  Landndmahdk,  which  describes  the  first 
colonists,  their  families,  and  their  holdings,  proceed- 
ing regularly  round  the  whole  island,  and  including 
alf  the  important  facts  that  were  kept  in  remem- 
brance from  the  beginning  of  the  Commonwealth. 
He  wrote  also  the  lives  of  the  Kings  of  Norway, 
now  lost,  except  in  so  far  as  they  were  worked  into 
the  ampler  history  of  Snorri  Sturluson  and  others. 
He  wrote  also  a  ''book  of  Iceland,"  Islendingabok, 
extant  only  in  his  shorter  revised  version,  com- 
monly cited   as   Lihellus,   a   sketch   of   the   constitu- 


tion 

1 


1 


Ari's  historical  research  of  course  made  great 

The  Landndmahoh  has  been  lately  edited  in  full  (all  extant 
versions)  by  Dr'Finuur  Junsson.  Lihellus  has  been  frequently 
printed  along  with  Landndmahdk :  there  is  a  separate  edition  by 
Mobius,  1869.  The  Origines  Lslandice,  Dr  Gudbrand  Vigfusson's 
edition  of  the  early  historical  books,  is  to  be  published  by  the 
Clarendon  Press. 


316        EUKOPEAN   LITERATUKE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

use  of  family  traditions,  but  he  did  not  attempt 
to  work  these  out  in  the  full  imaginative  form  of 
the  Sagas.  He  was  a  precise  and  careful  historian, 
who  criticised  evidence.  The  Sagas  are  traditional 
stories,  not  limited  in  the  same  way;  full  of  life,  full 
of  drama  and  dialogue.  Yet  these  imaginative  stories 
are  not  only  founded  on  reality  but  came  by  their 
literary  form  through  the  example  of  Ari.  Tlie  care- 
ful and  exact  historian  set  the  fashion  of  prose,  which 
was  taken  up  and  extended  after  his  day  by  men  with 
other  motives.  The  imaginative  force  of  Njal  and 
Gisli  comes  from  the  same  historical  interest  as  led 
to  the  Landndmabok ;  the  diy  light  of  Ari's  critical 
judgment  went  before  the  richer  glow  of  the  Sagas. 

Old  High  German  prose  has  no  historical  writer 
like  Alfred  or  Ari,  not  even  so  much  romance  as  the 
HigTi  German  Auglo-Saxon  vcrsiou  of  Apollouius.  ISTotker 
wose-Noiker.  ^^iQ  German  (  +  1022)  is  a  translator  and 
expositor  of  books  for  the  schools  One  would  not 
expect  much  literary  genius  at  this  time  from  render- 
ings of  Boethius  or  Martianus  Capella  in  a  language 
where  prose  was  scarcely  known.  Yet  i^otker's  style 
is  enough  to  place  him  among  the  masters.  German 
critics  have  compared  him  with  the  best  in  the  lan- 
guage, old  or  new,  and  have  found  reasons  for  their 
opinion.^ 

Notker  is  the  culmination  of  the  long  studies  of 
St  Gall :  the  nephew  of  the  elder  Ekkehard  (the 
poet)  and  contemporary  of  the  younger  (the  his- 
torian), he  inherited  the  learning  and  the  good  sense 

^  Koegel,  Geseh.  der  deutscJien  Litteratur,  i.  2,  p.  618. 


THE   TEUTONIC   LANGUAGES.  317 

which  were  traditional  in  the  house.  Pliilology  was 
not  divorced  from  Wit  in  anything  that  St  Gall  pro- 
duced; and  the  nuptials  of  Mercury,  the  favourite 
scholastic  allegory,  were  finely  illustrated  in  the 
work  of  the  translator  Notker.  In  a  Latin  letter  he 
speaks  of  various  projects  of  translation,  including 
the  Bucolics  of  Virgil  and  the  Andria ;  Ekkehard 
in  the  account  of  his  death  says  that  he  had  just 
finished  Job ;  the  extant  books  are  Boethius,  the  Con- 
solation ;  Martianus  Capella,  i.  and  ii. ;  the  Psalter ; 
and  two  of  the  treatises  of  the  Orgcnion. 

Prose  had  been  used  before  in  versions  from  the 
Latin,  but  the  German  Tatian^  has  no  merit  except 
its  "hideous  fidelity."  Notker  broke  away,  like 
Alfred  and  ^Ifric,  from  the  interlinear  method  which 
was  good  enough  for  Ulfilas  and  Wyciiffe.  He  repre- 
sents the  humanities  —  not  the  mere  pedagogic 
business,  but  the  sensitive  appreciation  and  trans- 
fusion of  meaning  from  one  language  to  another. 
The  German  tongue  for  him  was  a  creature  with  gifts 
of  its  own,  and  his  title  of  honour  is  that  he  thought 
so  much  of  his  native  language  and  spent  so  much 
in  training  it  to  the  service  of  new  ideas.  ^Ifric  had 
a  like  respect  for  idiom,  and  the  Irish  scholars  no 
less;  but  few  have  attempted,  with  so  little  precedent 
before  them,  such  tasks  as  Notker.  In  his  invention 
of  a  philosophical  German  language  in  the  tenth  cen- 
tury he  may  have  given  his  pupils  more  than  they 
wanted.  That  does  not  detract  from  his  scholarship 
or  his  style.  In  the  lively,  idiomatic,  imaginative  use 
1  Ed.  Sievers,  1872. 


318        EUROPEAN    LITERATURE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

of  philosophic  terms  he  is  the  ancestor,  though  un- 
acknowledged, of  Meister  Eckhart  and  Hegel.^ 

^  A  specimen  of  his  style,  where  he  is  going  beyond  his  text  and 
reading  mythology  in  his  own  way  : — 

Attis  pulcher  item.  "  Du  bist  ter  scono  bluomo.  der  iu  chint 
uuas.  ten  berezinthia  minnot.  taz  chit  terra,  uudnde  si  ist  in 
uuintere  be  tan.  unde  langet  sia  des  lenzen.  so  bltiomen  sint." 
"  Thou  art  the  fair  flower  that  was  once  the  child  whom  Berecyntia 
loves  :  that  is  to  say  Terra  whenas  she  is  oppressed  in  winter,  and 
she  longeth  for  the  Lenten  when  the  flowers  are." 

Notker  died  on  St  Peter's  Eve,  1022,  of  the  plague  brought  back 
from  Italy  by  the  army  of  Heniy  II.  Ekkehard  gives  the  story  of  his 
death  in  the  Liher  Benedictionnm.  He  confessed  his  sins  ;  the  worst 
of  them  was  that  one  day  while  wearing  the  habit  of  the  order  he 
had  killed  a  wolf.  One  of  the  brothers  standing  by,  a  simple-minded 
man,  cried  out  in  his  grief,  "  I  would  not  care  though  you  had  killed 
all  the  wolves  in  the  world  ! "  Notker  called  for  the  doors  to  be 
opened,  that  the  poor  might  be  brought  in  and  fed.  He  would  not 
be  undressed  for  burial :  he  kept  the  chain  on  his  loins  that  he 
always  wore. 


319 


CHAPTER   V. 

IRELAND   AND   WALES  ;    GREECE ;   THE   ROMANCE   TONGUE. 

IRISH  SCHOLARSHIP  —  IRISH  PROSE  —  DEIRDRE  — '  TOCHMARC  FERBE  ' — 
IRISH  VERSE — WALES — WELSH  VERSE— WELSH  PROSE:  '  THE  MAB- 
INOGION' — GREECE  IN  THE  DARK  AGES — ROMAIC  VERSE — DIGENIS 
AKRITAS  — THEODORUS  PRODROMUS — THE  ANTHOLOGY — BYZANTINE 
PROSE— THE  ROMANCE  LANGUAGES — FRENCH  EPIC — THE  PILGRIM- 
AGE  OF   CHARLEMAGNE — '  LB   ROI   LOUIS  ' — ROLAND. 

The  Latin  education  of  Ireland  began  earlier  and  was 
better  maintained  than  in  other  countries.  The  Eno:- 
Irish sciwiar.  ^ish  and  otlier  Teutonic  nations  received 
ship.  instruction   from   the   Irisli,  and   tliat   not 

only  at  the  beginning  of  their  studies:  Irish  learning 
did  not  exlmust  itself  in  missionary  work  and  was 
not  merged  in  the  progress  of  its  German  pupils; 
it  kept  its  vivifying  power  through  many  genera- 
tions, and  repeated  in  the  ninth  century  the  good 
works  of  the  fifth,  again  contributing  fresh  material 
and  a  still  rarer  spirit  of  inquiry  to  the  connnon 
erudition  of  the  Continent.^ 

^  See  above,  p.  160.  The  nature  of  ordinary  Irish  scholarship, 
and  at  the  same  time  of  many  educational  commonplaces  not  pe- 
culiarly Irish,  may  be  well  seen  in  the  fragmentary  exposition  of  the 
Psalter,  edited  by  Dr  Kuno  Meyer,  Ilibcrnica  Minora,  Oxford,  1894. 


320        EUROPEAN   LITERATURE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

With  all  this,  Celtic  literature  is  more  primitive 
than  anything  in  Anglo  Saxon  or  Icelandic;  unre- 
strained in  fancy,  and  as  careless  about  modern 
courtesies  as  about  the  probabilities  and  proprieties 
of  the  understanding.  The  two  extremes  are  often 
found  together  in  Irish,  without  any  attempt  at  har- 
mony. The  wildest  story  will  begin  with  a  calm 
recital  of  the  four  requisites  of  story-telling.  "The 
four  things  that  are  required  of  every  story  are  re- 
quired of  this  one — viz.,  time,  and  place,  and  person, 
and  the  cause  of  invention."  These  are  formulas  from 
school  notebooks.  The  correct  opening  does  not  seem 
to  promise  much  more  excitement  than  the  ordinary 
mediaeval  chapter-heading :  "  Inasmuch  as  we  are  told 
by  the  philosopher  that  all  men  naturally  desire  know- 
ledge," &c.  But  the  lecture-room  and  its  influences 
are  soon  forgotten  when  the  story  gets  under  way, 
though  at  any  moment  a  learned  reference  may  ap- 
pear casually,  to  show  that  those  who  wrote  out  and 
enjoyed  the  adventures  of  Cuchulain,  "the  Distorted 
of  Ireland,"  had  also  in  their  minds  the  ordinary 
garnishings  of  Latin  culture. 

In  some  important  respects  Irish  literature  is  more 
deeply  affected  by  Latin  than  German  is,  though 
German  literature  showed  itself  generally  so  meek  and 
conformable,  and  made  so  feeble  a  stand  for  its  native 
traditions  in  comparison  with  Irish.  Irish  verse  is 
founded  upon  Latin  almost  entirely.^  There  was  an 
old  Celtic  kind  of  verse  with  some  analogies  to  the 

^  Thurneyseii,  Zur  irischcn  Accent  und   Vcrdchre,  Revue  Ctllique, 
vi.  309-347. 


IRELAND   AND   WALES.  321 

old  Teutonic,  and  still  more  to  the  old  Latin — an  in- 
exact alliterative  line.^  But  this  is  not  used  largely, 
and  the  most  popular  Irish  verse  is  a  modification  of 
Latin  trochaics.^  The  literature  vv^hich  had  least  in- 
clination towards  conformity,  and  which  has  kept  its 
ideas  longer  than  any  other,  unspoilt  by  any  modern 
platitude,  was  invaded  and  conquered,  earlier  than 
one  can  tell,  by  the  foreign  prosody.  The  technical 
part  of  Irish  verse  is  not  purely  Celtic. 

1  The  following  specimen  of  old  verse  is  quoted  by  Thumeysen 
from  the  tale  of  the  Sick-bed  of  Cuchulinn  {Ivische  Texte,  i.  p.  211) : — 

"Slaidid  sciathu  !  scailid  gou, 
Crechtnaigid  curpu  |  gonaid  soeru 
Saigid  oirgniu  |  aildiu  inn-aib 
Manraid  skiagu  |  sreid  muine 
F6bartacli  fian  j  fochen  Labraid." 

This  has  analogies  with  the  old  Latin  accentual  rhythm : — 

"uti  tu  morbos  |  visos  invisosque 
viduertatem  |  vastitudinemque 
calamitates  |  intemperiasque 
piohibessis,  defendas  |  averruncesque : 
uti  fruges  frumenta  |  vineta  virgultaque 
grandire  beneque  |  evenire  siris 
pastores  pecua  |  salva  servassis 
duisque  bonain  salutem  |  valetudinemque 
milii  domo  |  familiseque  nostrse." 

— Cato,  De  Re  Rustica,  141 :  arranged  by 
F.  D.  Allen,  Early  Latin. 

2  Seadna  is  the  name  for  the  verse   that  comes  nearest  to  the 
regular  tetrameter — 

"Rombith  oroit  let  a  Maire,  |  rop  trocar  ri  nime  diin 
Ar  guin  ar  guasacht  ar  gabud  |  a  Crist  for  do  snadud  ddn." 

—Irische  Texte,  i.  52  ;  Rev.  Celt.,  vi.  339. 

The  commonest  form  is  Debide,  four  lines  of  seven  syllables  witb 
rhymes  like  string :  dancing  (Keats,  Endymion,  i.  11.  313,  314) — 

"Messe  ocus  Pangiir  Ban  |  cechtar  nathar  fria  saindan 
Bith  a  mennia-sam  fri  seilgg  |  mu  menma  eein  im  saincheirdd.* 

X 


322        EUROPEAN    LITERATURE — THE   DARK  AGES. 

The  prose,  on  the  other  hand,  is  as  free  as  the  Ice- 
landic, and  much  more  antique  in  its  idiom.     Icelandic 
prose  of  the  thirteenth  century  is  not  what 

Irish  Prose.       .  n      i  ^•  ^  -r 

IS  commonly  called  mediseval.  Its  narra- 
tive and  dialogue  may  be  compared  with  the  most 
accomplished  in  the  modern  tongues.  It  has  nothing 
to  learn  in  the  way  of  self-command,  clearness,  irony. 
Irish  prose  uses  an  antique  syntax,  sometimes  like 
that  of  mediseval  French,  the  language  that  never 
lost  its  childhood,  running  on  happily  from  phrase 
to  phrase  without  stopping  to  think  of  elaborate  con- 
structions. Old  French  will  tell  a  story  by  simply 
tacking  on  one  sentence  to  another  with  the  particle 
si.  Old  Irish  uses  the  same  loose  construction :  ''  Lotar 
ass  iarom,  con  rancatar  toeb  na  indse,  con'  accatar  in 
lungine  credume  forsind  loch  ar  a  cind."  "  Then  they 
went  on,  so  they  came  over  against  the  island,  so  they 
saw  the  boat  of  bronze  on  the  lake  before  them" — 
Sick-hed  of  Ctichtdinn,  c.  15. 

But  besides  this  easy-going  manner  there  are  many 
complications,  some  of  them  part  of  the  ordinary 
spoken  language,  some  of  them  artificial  ornaments. 
Varied  and  difficult  grammar  is  as  natural  to  old  Irish 
as  the  simple  stringing  of  sentences.  The  language 
is  well  provided  with  a  passive  voice,  a  subjunctive 
mood,  and  a  large  assortment  of  tenses.  The  col- 
loquial arrangement  of  words  is  naturally  rhetorical, 
often  putting,  for  instance,  the  personal  name  in  an 
emphatic  place  by  itself:  "As  for  Conchobar,  there 
was  the  valour  of  a  hero  in  him  " — "  Cid  Conchobar 
dano  ba  gal  churad  leis."     One  favourite  construction 


IRELAND   AND   WALES.  323 

agrees  with  an  old  French  practice  which  the  gram- 
marians have  troubled  tliemselves  to  explain  :  "  a  jewel 
of  a  man"  gives  the  type  of  it,  or,  more  elaborately, 
"two  candles  of  valour  of  five-edged  spears  in  the 
hand  of  each  man  of  them" — "Da  chaiiidill  gaiscid 
di  shlegaib  coicrinnechaib  illaim  cech  fhir  dib." 

In  ornamental  prose  the  Irish  taste  occasionally 
went  beyond  all  limits :  there  is  a  certain  kind  of 
profuse  meaningless  epithet  work  which  came  to  be 
a  convention  in  Irish,  and  with  this  very  often  the 
sounder  and  older  prose  was  overlaid  in  new  versions. 
But  besides  this  there  is  a  good  type  of  Euphuism 
where  the  ornament  does  not  obscure  the  meaning, 
and  the  epithet,  though  conventional,  is  not  otiose. 
Alliteration  is  seldom  long  wanting.  A  more  sparing 
use  is  made  of  grammatical  figures,  but  antithesis  is 
common,  as  it  is  in  the  popular  language  of  the  fairy 
tales :  "  A  green  knoll,  at  the  face  of  the  sun  and  the 
back  of  the  wind,  wliere  they  were  near  to  their 
friends  and  far  from  their  foes ! "  A  specimen  piece 
of  old  Irish  rlietoric  is  the  formula :  "  Thouo^h  he  was 
a  youth  in  years  he  was  a  warrior  in  might  of  battle  " 
— "  Ba  segda  siiairc  sobesach  in  rigmacc  boi  rempu,  ocus 
ciar  bo  maccoem  iar  n-ais  ropo  milid  iar  morgasciud."  ^ 

^  Irische  Texte,  iii.  p.  484  (Tochmarc  Ferbe).  A  specimen  of  Irish 
rhetoric,  con^'entional  but  not  dull,  may  be  quoted  here  from  the 
Battle  of  Ventry  :  "And  like  the  wild,  nois^'^,  rough-streamed,  terrible 
waterfall  that  pours  through  a  narrow  thin  rock,  or  like  a  fierce 
red  blaze  of  fire  with  high-peaked  flames  through  the  wide  roof  of 
a  king's  palace,  or  like  the  roar  of  a  white-crested,  green-chinned, 
wailing,  white-foaming,  full-watered  wave  of  the  great  sea  around 
it,  so  was  the  overthrowing  and  the  scattering  and  the  beating  and 
the  tearing  into  pieces  and  wild  backing  which  Oscar  inflicted  on 


324        EUROPEAN   LITERATURE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

Tlie  tastes  of  the  old  Irish  authors  are  seen  perhaps 
most  evidently  in  their  translations  from  the  Latin. 
The  versions  of  the  Tale  of  Troy  and  the  history  of 
Alexander  given  in  Irische  Texte  exhibit  two  different 
varieties  of  prose:  Troy,  characteristically  Irish,  but 
not  spoilt  as  a  story  by  translation  into  Irish  terms; 
Alexander,  on  the  other  hand,  far  gone  towards  futile 
ornament  —  Irish  rhetoric  working  on  the  original 
stuff,  as  the  parasitic  plant  called  dodder  overspreads 
and  kills  a  livelier  vegetable.  The  Irish  Odyssey,  the 
Wandering  of  Uilix  MacLeirtis,^  is  a  continuation  of 
the  Irish  Troy  book,  and  shows  a  thorough  assimila- 
tion of  the  Greek  fable  (wherever  that  may  have  been 
found)  to  the  temper  of  Irish  romance. 

It  is  the  prose  literature  of  the  Celts  that  makes 
their  great  distinction,  though  their  poetry  is  remark- 
able enough.  Iceland  is  the  other  country  possessed 
of  riches  in  prose,  and  Iceland  is  later  than  Ireland. 
There  is  much  resemblance  at  first  sight  between  the 
two.  Both  are  in  close  relation  to  ordinary  life,  es- 
pecially in  their  repetition  of  dialogue.  Both  are 
exempt  from  Latin  grammar — not  through  ignorance, 
but  through  the  greater  strength  and  self-assertion 
of  their  natural  idiom.  Both  make  great  things  out  of 
oral  tradition.  But  the  resemblance  does  not  go 
deep.  Icelandic  sagas  are  modern  in  everything  but 
their  date.     The  art  of  them  keeps  up  with  the  newest 

the  foreigners  in  that  onslaught."—  Cath  Finntrdga,  edited  and  trans- 
lated by  Kuno  Meyer,  Oxford,  1885,  p.  16.  Tliis  does  not  show  the 
alliteration  of  the  Irish  original. 

^  Merugud  Uilix  meicLeirtis,  ed.  Kuno  Meyer. 


IRELAND   AND   WALES.  325 

inventions  in  fiction,  and  is  familiar  with  secrets  of 
workmanship  about  which  Flaubert  and  Tourgenieff 
are  still  exercised.  The  conversation  of  Njal  and 
Skarphedinn  was  written  in  the  thirteenth  century, 
and  may  have  been  repeated  as  a  fireside  tale  for 
generations  before  that;  but  as  it  stands  in  the  book 
it  agrees  with  any  age,  and  the  last  thing  to  which  it 
can  be  likened  is  what  is  commonly  called  "  mediaeval," 
what  Johnson  and  Scott  called  "  Gothic,"  of  the  old- 
fashioned  romantic  type.  Irish  prose  is  openly  ro- 
mantic, like  the  Welsh  prose  in  Mr  Arnold's  quota- 
tions ;  romantic  —  that  is  to  say,  quaint,  pathetic, 
melancholy,  grotesque  —  both  in  matter  and  style. 
The  stories,  whether  of  cattle  spoils  or  abductions, 
voyages,  wooing,  or  violent  death,  according  to  the 
old  Irish  Catalogue  of  favourite  topics,^  are  full  of 
wonders ;  and  even  simple  business,  like  ordinary 
fighting,  is  described  with  an  air  of  surprise. 
»  Much  of  it,  as  already  said,  is  old  mythology,  and 
not  of  the  most  reasonable, — like  old  wives'  tales 
literally  reported.  In  the  confusion,  however,  there 
may  be  made  out-  a  certain  tendency  to  order,  a 
shaping  force  that  reduces  the  absurdities  and  dwells 
on  the  more  human  aspect,  bringing  heroism  nearer 
to  that  "deliberate  valour"  which  many  English 
poets  have  reverenced,  and  further  from  the  sensa- 
tional rage  of  the  Distorted.  This  rationalising  of 
motives  may  sometimes  be  observed  where  the  same 
story  is  found  in  earlier  and  later  versions.  The 
tale  of  Deirdre  has  incidents  in  it  which  a  reasonable 

^  In  the  Book  of  Leinster :  see  Zimmer,  Z.  /.  d.  A,,  xxxiii.  p.  144. 


326         EUROPEAN   LITERATURE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

taste  will  not  allow,  and  the  older  version  has  more 
crudity  than  the  later.^  The  Ulster  legend  to  which 
it  belongs,  and  in  which  Ciichulinn  is  the  chief  figure, 
includes  a  great  number  of  stories  of  different  origin 
and  motive,  never  reduced  to  any  common  standard. 
But  in  very  many  of  tl.em  may  be  found  a  sense 
of  beauty  at  variance  with  mucli  of  the  traditional 
narrative ;  in  others  a  deliberate  humorous  intention 
something  like  that  of  Snorri's  Edda;  in  a  few  the 
definite  appreciation  of  what  may  be  called  epic 
or  tragic  motives,  in  contrast  to  the  wild  work  of 
mythology.  Which  must  not  be  taken  as  implying 
that  the  Irish  ought  to  have  been  more  precise,  or 
were  wrong  in  keeping  so  much  of  their  ancestral 
fabling.  There  is  room  enough  both  for  the  imagina- 
tive common-sense  of  the  Icelanders  and  the  romantic 
mythology  of  the  Irish.  But  to  judge  the  Irish  truly, 
their  understanding  must  be  recognised  as  well  as 
their  fancy,  and  they  understood,  in  many  of  their 
tales,  that  something  was  to  be  gained  by  respect 
for  the  possibilities. 

It  was  in  this  way  that  tragedy  might  arise  out 

of   the   chaos   of   the   heroic   legend.      This   is  what 

happens  in  the  tale  of  Deirdre  and  the  sons 

of  Usnech.      Two  motives  are  harmonised 

in  it,  and  neillier  of  them  is  mean  or  untrue.     One 

is  the  sorrow  of  Deirdre,  who  sees  the  trouble  coming 

1  Longes  mac  n-  Usnig  in  Ir.  Texte,  i.  It  is  to  be  remembered  that 
the  extant  versions  are  very  incomplete  as  evidence  of  literary  taste. 
Some  of  them  are  abridgments,  and  in  many  cases  the  later  text 
may  be  more  truly  original  than  the  earlier. 


IRELAND   AND    WALES.  327 

on  before  they  leave  the  land  of  Alba,  and  cannot 
keep  the  sons  of  Usnech  from  returning  to  Ireland. 
The  other  motive  is  the  honour  of  Fergus,  and  this 
is  'much  more  dramatic  than  the  other.  Fergus  is 
entrapped  by  Conchobar  and  made  the  instrument  of 
his  plot  against  the  sons  of  Usnech.  It  is  this  that 
makes  the  tragic  discord  in  one  of  the  strong  passages 
of  Irish  prose;  and  there  is  nothing  in  it  untrue  or 
forced.  If  the  Sons  of  Usnech  were  turned  into 
Icelandic,  v^ith  Icelandic  scenes,  dresses,  and  manners, 
many  Irish  things  would  disappear.  The  lament 
of  Deirdre  refuses  to  be  translated  out  of  its  proper 
terms ;  it  belongs  inalienably  to  Glen  Etive  and  Glen 
Masain.  But  the  drama  would  come  out,  in  essentials, 
unchanged,  though  the  incidents  were  reduced  to  the 
merest  matter  of  fact.  Any  stage  or  any  properties 
would  do  for  a  rendering  of  Fergus,  the  true  man 
who  finds  that  he  has  been  made  the  agent  of 
treachery.  As  for  the  last  fight,  it  has  been  observed 
already  how  like  it  is  to  the  great  epic  battles  in 
other  languages.  What  is  most  wanting  in  the  Irish 
tales  is  the  gravity  of  one  of  the  great  conflicts, 
like  Roncevaux  or  the  Nihehtnge  Not,  which  weigh 
on  the  mind  like  a  thunderstorm.  Generally  there 
are  so  many  adventures  and  exploits  that  the  stress 
of  the  action  is  dissipated.  It  is  not  always  so, 
Tociimarc  howevcr.  The  Sons  of  Usnech  make  one 
Ferbe.  exccption ;  the  Wooing  of  Ferb  is  another.^ 

This  story  is  one  that  shows  excellently  some  of  the 

1  Toclanarc  Ferbe,  ed,  Wiudisch,  in  Irische  Texte,  iii. ;  an  English 
translation  by  A.  H.  Leahy,  London,  1 902. 


328        EUROPEAN    LITERATURE — THE   DARK  AGES. 

variations  of  form  at  the  command  of  Irish  poets 
and  story-tellers.  The  prose  has  many  poems  inter- 
spersed, and  not  all  of  one  sort,  but  varying  from 
rude  verse  of  the  oldest  type  to  the  most  elaborate 
new  form.  It  carries  out  thoroughly  what  may  be 
assumed  as  the  rules  of  the  mixed  kind  of  narrative, 
partly  verse  and  partly  prose,  which  is  so  character- 
istically Irish,  whether  or  not  it  is  also,  as  some 
think,  the  primitive  form  of  epic  in  general.^  Curi- 
ously, the  text  ends  with  an  example  of  the  epic 
reviser  at  work,  in  a  continuous  poem  which  repeats 
all  the  story.  Some  one  apparently  thought  it  a 
pity  that  the  original  short  poems  should  be  left 
in  their  isolation,  with  nothing  better  than  prose  to 
hold  them  together.  So  he  wrote  out  the  whole 
afresh,  in  thirty- nine  quatrains.  In  the  same  way 
an  English,  Danish,  or  Spanish  ballad  professional 
will  put  together  the  matter  of  several  short  ballads 
into  one  long  one :  the  dull  summary  of  the 
Nibelung  story  in  the  Elder  Edda  (Gripis  Spa)  is 
not  very  different  in  kind.^  But  apart  from  these 
accidents  of  form  the  story  of  the  Wooing  of  Ferh  is 
interesting,  because  in  the  action  it  resembles  the 
epic  matter  of  other  nations  so  much  more  than  is 
usual  in  Ireland.  The  lyrics  and  elegies  contained 
in  it,  and  many  a  turn  of  phrase,  would  save  it  from 
ever  being  set  down  as  mere  repetition  of  common 
motives.     But  as  a  matter  of  fact  it  does  use  common 

^  Cf.  Motherwell,  Minstrelsy,  Introd.,  p.  xiv  sqq. ;  Rhys,  Arthurian 
Legend,  p.  374,  and  the  refereuces  there. 
'^  See  above,  p.  290, 


IRELAND   AND   WALES.  329 

motives,  even  the  commonest — a  catalogue  of  forces 
(with  a  heroine,  like  Camilla),  and  a  long  detailed 
battle  in  defence  of  a  stronghold. 

Old  Irish  poetry  is  found  difficult  by  the  best 
scholars,  but  some  of  its  qualities  are  well  shown 
in  fairly  easy  poems,  and  the  difficulties 
of  the  harder  ones  are  being  cleared  away. 
It  is  not  necessary  to  repeat  what  has  been  said  by 
more  than  one  writer  about  the  interest  in  Nature, 
the  miraculous  freedom  of  the  Irish  from  the  conven- 
tional mediaeval  habit  of  taking  Nature  for  granted. 
It  is  true  that  in  other  languages,  in  Anglo-Saxon  and 
Provenqal,  one  may  meet  with  touches  of  observation 
that  go  to  the  quick,  like  the  skylark's  rapture  in 
Bernard  of  Ventadour.^  But  the  Irish  are  the  only 
people  in  the  Middle  Ages,  unless  the  Welsh  be  taken 
along  with  them,  who  can  make  poetry  out  of  mere 
Nature  and  nothing  else,  or  at  any  rate  nothing  else 
besides  the  spirit  of  the  poet,  and  his  pleasure  in  what 
he  sees,  hears,  and  lives  among. 

Irish  poetry  developed  very  largely  the  taste  for 
artificial  language  which  is  found  in  the  Icelandic 
Court  poetry  and  elsewhere.  The  profession  of  poet 
was  encouraged  and  magnified  by  the  poets  themselves. 
They  became  a  weariness  sometimes,  as  the  old  Irish 
life  of  Columba  remarks ;  but  the  mystery  of  verse 
and  poetical  figure  was  not  suppressed.  The  masters 
taught  the  same  kind  of  affected  paraphrase  as  in 
Iceland.  "  Hens'  eggs  are  called  '  gravel  of  Glenn  Ai ' ; 
a  piece  of  eel  is  called  '  a  piece  of  the  female  race, 

^  See  above,  p.  7. 


330        EUROPEAN   LITEKATUllE — THE   DAKK  AGES. 

as  there  were  supposed  to  be  no  male  eels ;  leek 
'tear  of  a  fair  woman';  some  edible  seaweed  'mesh 
of  the  plain  of  Eian'=:tbe  sea,  &c."^  Subtilties  of 
verse  were  carried  far;  there  are  treatises  on  the 
art  of  poetry  ^  describing  all  kinds  of  difficult  metres — 
three  hundred  and  thirty-eight  varieties  in  one  book. 
Some  of  those  seem  too  exacting  for  poetry  ;  in  others 
the  trick  of  the  rhyme  is  as  graceful  as  the  fine  work 
of  the  French  Pleiade.  One  of  these  staves  has  been 
copied  in  English,  thus,  by  Mr  Walter  Ealeigh : — 

"  Though  our  songs 
Cannot  banish  ancient  wrongs, 
Though  they  follow  where  the  rose 
Goes, 

And  their  sound 
Swooning  over  hollow  ground 
Fade,  and  leave  the  enchanted  air 
Bare, 

Yet  the  wise 

Say  that  not  unblest  he  dies 
Who  has  known  a  single  May 
Day: 

If  we  have  laughed, 
Loved,  and  laboured  in  our  craft, 
We  may  pass  with  a  resigned 
Mind."  3 


^  Kuno  Meyer,  Revue  Ccltique,  xii.  p.  220. 

^  Mittelirische  Verslehrcn,  edited  by  Thuineysen  {Irische  l^exte,  iii.) 

^  The  technical  name  for  this  is  dehide  baise  fri  tdin,  which  in  the 

vulgar   tongue    might   be    rendered    "  doup  -  skelp. "  —  Thurneysen, 

op.  cit.t  p.   150. 


IRELAND  AND   WALES.  331 

The  old  Gaelic  Court  poetry  is  not  all  complicated 
with  rhetoric.  Sometimes  the  common  motives  are 
treated  with  a  dignified  simplicity.  An  example  of  this 
is  the  Soiig  of  the  Sivord  of  Cerhall}  The  substance  is 
of  the  well-known  kind,— the  king's  achievements  and 
the  glory  of  his  fathers.  This  is  put  into  the  form 
of  an  address  to  the  Sword  and  a  recital  of  the 
Sword's  fortunes  as  it  wa^  handed  on  from  one  king 
to  his  successor — 

"  Hail  sword  of  Cerl3all !     Oft  hast  thou  been  in  the  great 
woof  of  war  !  " 

The  rhetoric  is  not  far-fetched,  but  rather  like   the 
repetitions  in  a  ballad : — 

"  Thy  bright  point  was  a  crimson  point  in  the  battle  of  Odba 
of  the  Foreigners, 
When  thou  leftest  Aed  Finnhath  on  his  back  in  the  battle  of 
Odba  of  noble  routs. 

Crimson  was  thy  edge,  it  was  seen,  at  Belach  Mugna ;  thou 

wast  proved 
In  the  valorous  battle  of  Ailbe's  plain,  throughout  which  the 
fighting  raged. 

Before  thee  the  goodly  host  broke  on  a  Thursday  at  Dun 

Ochtair 
When  Aed  the  fierce  and  brilliant  fell  on  the  hillside  above 

Liathmaine. 

Before  thee  the  host  broke,  on  the  day  when  Cellach  was 

slain, 
The  son  of  Flannacan,  with  numbers  of  troops,  in  high  lofty 

great  Tara." 
1  Edited  and  translated  by  Kuno  Meyer,  Revue  CcUique,  xx.  p.  7. 


332        EUllOPEAN   LITE RATUKE— THE   DARK   AGES. 

Compared  with  the  Northern  Court  poetry  this  is 
flat,  and  from  no  point  of  view  is  there  any  great 
novelty  in  it.  But  it  is  well  composed :  it  expresses, 
as  it  intends,  the  greatness  of  the  royal  line.  It  is 
possibly  nearer  than  anything  in  Old  English  or 
old  Norse  to  the  Greek  simplicity,  which  is  often 
thought  tame  by  the  romantic  mind ;  it  is  early  art 
at  the  first  reflective  stage,  when  it  is  content  with 
easy  rules.  The  proportions  are  right ;  the  unities  are 
preserved.  The  ideas  are  not  new,  but  they  are  made 
to  seem  important  for  the  time — that  is,  they  succeed 
in  literature. 

Early  Welsh   literature   agrees  with  Irish   in  the 

most  important  respects,  and  differs  from  Old  English 

in  the  same  degree.      The  poetical  forms 

Wales.  °    -  -     ,       _,       ... 

are  a  contrast  to  those  oi  the  English  epic. 
Stanzas,  exact  in  shape  and  obscure  in  meaning,  are 
among  the  oldest  remains  of  Welsh,  and  the  later 
poetry  intensifies  and  develops  such  qualities  as  these. 
On  the  other  hand,  the  free  Welsh  prose  of  the  old 
romances  is  as  unrestrained  as  in  those  of  Ireland. 
The  slow  beginnings  of  Old  English  prose  are  dif- 
ferent ;  and  though  English  writers  acquired  freedom 
before  the  end  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  period,  they  never 
wrote  anything  like  the  Mahinogion.  Long  interest- 
ing stories  in  prose,  difficult  artificial  work  in  verse, — 
these  are  the  kinds  of  literature  favoured  in  Wales 
and  Ireland. 

In  a  manuscript  of  Juvencus  at  Cambridge  there 
are  two  Welsh  poems  of  the  ninth  century,  written 
in  a  form  which   has   never  died   out  in  Wales — a 


IRELAND   AND   WALES.  333 

triplet  with  a  curious  proportion  between  the  lines, 
which  may  be  described  here  as  an  example  of  ancient 
poetic  art.  The  habit  of  mind  shown  in 
the  ninth  -  century  poems  is  found  un- 
altered, after  a  thousand  years,  in  the  curious  work 
of  modern  Welsh  poets,  which  in  taste,  interest,  and 
ambition  is  more  distant  from  the  English  "  reading 
public"  than  the  poetry  of  Persia  or  Japan,-— 

"  Gur  dicones  remedaut— epnA^     ^  pilvu<?\/" 
Anguorit  anguoraut   ~''^-^-^:::::i:.-.  <mm. 
Nigaru  gnim  molim  trintaut." 

This  is  an  englyn  from  the  Cambridge  manuscript, 
rendered  as  follows  : — 

"  He  wlio  made  the  wonder  of  the  world — 
He  who  saved  us — will  save  us  : 
No  hard  work  to  praise  the  Trinity."  ^ 

The  first  line  is  called  the  "  shaft "  (paladr) ;  the  two 
syllables  set  off  to  the  one  side — in  technical  language 
the  gair  cyrch — are  in  a  way  outside  of  the  stanza, 
which  without  them  is  a  triplet,  rhyming  in  -mtt. 
Often,  however,  the  gair  cyrch  rhymes  with  an  in- 
ternal syllable  in  the  next  line,  in  a  manner  which 
is  common  also  in  Irish  verse: — 

"Mi  awum  lie  lias  milvir — pridaw 
Or  duyran  ir  goglet." 

"  I  have  been  where  fell  the  soldiers  of  Britain 
From  the  East  to  the  North."  2 


^  Rhys,  Arthurian  Legend,  p.  384  ;  Skene,  Four  Ancient  BooTcs  of 
Wales,  ii.  p.  1 ;  H.  Bradshaw,  On  the  oldest  written  remains  of  the 
Welsh  language  {Collected  PajJers,  p.   281  sqq.) 

2  Rhys,  op.  cit.,  p.  385. 


334        EUROPEAN    LITERATURE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

Triplets  are  also  common  without  the  catchword. 
One  of  the  few  Welsh  quotations  current  in  England 
is  one  of  these — the  englyn  of  the  grave  of  Arthur. 
Another  of  the  same  series  is  the  followinfr : — 


'o 


"  Bet  mab  Osvran  yg  Camlan 
Gvydi  llawer  cyvvlavan 
Bet  Beclwir  in  alld  Tryvan," 

"  Osvran's  son's  grave  (is)  at  Camlan, 
After  many  a  slaughter  ; 
Bedwyr's  grave  is  in  Allt  Tryvan."  ^ 

Or,  again,  in  the  poem  on  Geraint,  son  of  Erbyu :  — 

"  En  Llogporth  y  lias  y  Gereint 
Guir  deur  o  odir  Diwneint 
A  chin  rillethid  ve  llatysseint." 

"  At  Llongborth  there  fell  of  Geraint's 
Brave  men  from  the  border  of  Devon, 
And  ere  they  were  slain  they  slew." 

Welsh  verse  shares  with  Irish  a  preference  for  the 
seven-syllable  line,  the  importance  of  which  in  popu- 
lar Latin  and  Eomance  prosody  has  already  been  in- 
dicated. 

In  the  early  Welsh  history  the  names  of  certain  poets 
are  celebrated — Aneurin,  Taliesin,  Llywarch  Hen.^ 
The  most  famous  of  all  the  poems  is  the  Gododin, 
attributed  to  Aneurin.^     The  difficulties  of  this  whole 

^  Rhys,  Introduction  to  Malory. 

'^  The  Book  of  Aneurin  and  the  Boole  of  Taliesin  are  edited,  along 
with  the  Black  Book  of  Carmarthen  and  the  poems  of  the  Red  Book 
of  Hergest,  in  Skene's  Four  Ancient  Books  of  Wales. 

^  The  manuscript  is  late,  but  contains  forms  as  old  as  the  glosses  of 
the  ninth  century  :  llhys,  Arthurian  Leyend,  p.  241,  n.     There  is  a 


IRELAND   AND   WALES.  335 

body  of  literature  are  confessed  by  Celtic  scholars,  and 
will  be  respected  here,  in  the  spirit  of  the  Bishop  who 
avoided  the  word  metropolitice  because  it  was  too  hard 
for  him,^ — though  one  would  not  add  with  him  "ne 
fu  pas  curtays  qui  cest  parole  icy  escret,"  for  it  is  the 
essence  of  these  poems  that  they  are  courtly.  They 
might  be  popular  as  well,  like  the  Welsh  poetry  of 
the  present  day,  which,  though  it  belongs  to  the 
whole  people,  is  derived  originally  from  kings'  houses 
and  from  no  churlish  strain, — from  the  falcons,  not 
the  kites. 

One  can  make  out  pretty  surely  that  the  Welsh 
conventions   were   harder   than    the    Irish,    that   the  ^ 

Welsh  refused  more  persistently  to  write  intelligible       '  , 
poetry.     The  translation  of  the  Goclodm,  it  is  believed, 
has  not  yet  been  fully  accomplished.     The  difficulty 
is  something  like  that  of  the_  Icelandic  Court  poetry. 
But  the  Icelander  always  has  a  clear  idea :  he  knows  j^u  airx. 
the  fact  before  he  begins  coating  it  with  professional  ^^^^<^^'^^' 
epithets.      In    the   old   Welsh    poetry   there    is    ap-  '  ^ '  ''^' "" 
parently  yagueness  of  thought  as  well  as  ingenuity 
of  words  to  be  got  over.     Possibly  the  Welsh  were 
right.     Great  as  the  skill  of  the  Icelanders  was,  they 
could  not  harmonise  the  prose  substance  of  the  Court 
poetry  with  its  splendid  expression,  and  it  remains 
for   the   most   part   essentially   prosaic.      In   Welsh, 
and  Irish  too,  there  is  more  chance  that  along  with 

separate  edition,  The  Gododin  of  Aneurin  Gwawdrydd,  an  English 
translation  by  the  late  Thomas  Stephens ;  edited  by  Thomas  Powel, 
and  printed  for  the  Honourable  Society  of  Cymmrodorion,  1888, 
^  Stubbs,  History  of  England,  ii.  p.  318. 


336        EUROPEAN    LITERATURE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

the  artifices  and  ostentations  there  will  be  an  infusion 
of  another  spirit,  a  gust   of   passion,  ^n   impulse  of 
"^r  some  sort  not  like  prose. 

In  many  instances  the  difficulty  is  rather  that  of 
matter  than  of  form :  the  poems  deal  with  obscure 
forgotten  myths,  and  are  not  explained,  as  in  the 
Elder  Edda,  with  prose  introductions  and  epilogues. 
Through  many  of  these  there  is  to  be  felt,  along  with 
the  abrupt  enigmatic  phrase,  a  sense  of  real  meaning 
in  the  story :  the  fault  is  in  the  later  generations,  to 
have  forgotten  what  every  child  once  knew ;  to  have 
lost,  for  instance,  the  story,  not  well  recorded  even  in 
the  oldest  Welsh  mythologies,  of  the  voyages  of  Arthur. 
But  here,  though  the  interpretation  is  wanting  and  the 
dream  itself  only  half  remembered,  the  poetical  value 
is  not  lost ;  the  meaning  of  the  story  remains  in  the 
burden  at  the  end  of  each  stanza — 

"  Three  freights  of  Prydwen  went  we  on  the  sea ; 
Seven  alone  did  we  return  from  Caer  Eigor."  ^ 

For  the  poetical  sense  this  hardly  needs  a  commentary, 
though  one  would  like  to  know  more  about  the 
dangers  that  Arthur  steered  through. 

The  best  of  the  old  Welsh  prose  is  found  in  the 
Red  Book  of  Hergest,  the  stories  commonly  known 
as  the  MabinogionP-     The  name  is  inaccurately  used, 

^  Rhys,  lutrotluction  to  Malory. 

^  Edited  and  translated  by  Lady  Charlotte  Guest,  1849  ;  described 
and  explained  by  Mr  Ivor  B.  John  in  Popular  Studies  in  Mythology, 
Romance,  and  Folklore,  No.  11,  published  by  D.  Nutt,  1901,  The  text 
of  the  Red  Book  was  published  by  Rhys  and  Evans  in  1887,  an  exact 
copy  of  the  MS.  See  also  papers  by  E.  Anwyl  {the  Four  Branches)  in 
Zeitschrift  fiir  celtische  Philologie,  i.  -iii. 


IRELAND  AND  WALES.  337 

like  most  others  of  the  sort.     Mahinog  is  the  name  for 
"a  kind  of  literary  apprentice,  a  scholar  receiving  in- 
struction from  a  qualified  bard.     Mcibinogi 
The  meant  the  subject-matter  of  a  Mabinog's 

a  inogion.  ^jourse,  the  literary  stock-in-trade  which 
he  had  to  acquire."  ^  The  plural,  Mabinogion,  denotes 
"  the  four  branches  of  the  Mabinogi," — the  stories  of 
Pwyll,  Prince  of  Dyved;  Brauwen,  daughter  of  Llyr; 
Manawyddan,  son  of  Llyr;  and  Math,  son  of  Math- 
onwy.  The  other  stories,  included  with  less  accuracy 
of  title  in  Lady  Charlotte  Guest's  Mdbinogion,  are  The 
Lady  of  the  Fountain,  Geraint,  and  Peredicr,  the  plots 
of  which  correspond  more  or  less  to  the  Ivain,  Erec, 
and  Conte  du  Graal  of  Chrestien  de  Troyes ;  the 
Dream  of  Bhondbivy  and  Kilhwch  and  Oliven,  which 
are  Arthurian  without  any  such  definite  French  re- 
lations ;  the  Dream  of  Maxen  Wledig  (the  Emperor 
Maximus) ;  Lhidd  and  Llevelys  (part  of  the  history 
of  King  Lud);  and  the  story  of  Taliesin  the  poet, 
which  is  not  in  the  Book  of  Hergest. 

The  matter  is  variegated,  and  difficult  in  every 
possible  way, — different  lines  of  tradition  inextricably 
ravelled.  Three  of  the  sto-ries  have  a  French  ground- 
work, whether  the  poetry  of  Chrestien  or  some  older 
version  of  .the  same  plots.  Oivein,  Geraint,  and  Perednr 
are  not  Welsh  in  the  same  degree  as  Kilhwch  and 
Ohven.  It  is  impossible  for  many  reasons  to  discuss 
the  history  of  these  romances  here.  One  thing, 
however,  is  fairly  certain  about  them,  which  is  more 
important  than  anything  else  for  the  present  purpose : 

^  Ivor  John,  op.  cit.,  p.  4. 
Y 


338        EUKOPEAN    LITERATURE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

the  style  of  all  the  tales  is  native  and  idiomatic. 
Oiuein,  Geraint,  and  Peredur,  in  spite  of  their  foreign 
associations,  have  the  style  of  a  fairy  story  told  in 
a  living  language;  in  manner,  they  are  hardly  less 
purely  Celtic  than  the  Four  Branches  themselves, 
the  authentic  Mabi7iogi.  At  the  very  outset  the 
phrasing  proves  how  free  it  is  from  foreign  influences. 
No  French  romance  could  have  prompted  the  Welsh 
author  when  he  wrote :  "  King  Arthur  was  at  Caerlleon 
upon  Usk ;  and  one  day  he  sat  in  his  chamber,  and 
with  him  were  Owain  the  son  of  Urien,  and  Kynon 
the  son  of  Clydno,  and  Kai  the  son  of  Kyner,  and 
Gwenhwyvar  and  her  handmaidens  at  needlework 
by  the  window.  And  if  it  should  be  said  that  there 
was  a  porter  at  Arthur's  palace,  there  was  none,"  &c. 
The  idiom  in  that  last  sentence  was  not  grafted  in 
from  any  foreign  literature.  ISTor  are  the  native 
branches  of  the  Malinogi  less  capable  of  polite  con- 
versation than  the  stories  with  French  elements  in 
them.  The  following  example  is  from  Pwyll,  Prince 
of  Dyved : — 

"And  as  he  was  setting  on  his  dogs  he  saw  a 
horseman  coming  towards  him  upon  a  large  light 
grey  steed,  with  a  hunting  horn  round  his  neck,  and 
clad  in  garments  of  grey  woollen  in  the  fashion  of  a 
hunting  garb.  And  the  horseman  drew  near  and  spoke 
unto  him  thus — 

" '  Chieftain,'  said  he,  *  I  know  who  thou  art,  and 
I  greet  thee  not.' 

" '  Peradventure,'  said  Pwyll,  'thou  art  of  such 
dignity  that  thou  shouldst  not  do  so.' 


IRELANI)    AND    WALES.  339 

"'Verily/  answered  he,  'it  is  not  my  dignity 
that  prevents  me/ 

" '  What  is  it  then,  0  Clneftaiu  ? '  asked  he. 

"'By  Heaven,  it  is  by  reason  of  thine  own  ignor- 
ance and  want  of  courtesy/ 

" '  What  discourtesy.  Chieftain,  hast  thou  seen  in 
me  ? ' 

" '  Greater  discourtesy  saw  I  never  in  man,'  said  he, 
'than  to  drive  away  the  dogs  that  were  killing  the 
stag  and  to  set  upon  it  thine  own.  This  was  dis- 
courteous ;  and  though  I  may  not  be  revenged  upon 
thee,  yet  I  declare  to  Heaven  that  I  will  do  thee 
more  dishonour  than  the  value  of  a  hundred  stags/ 

"'0  Chieftain,'  he  replied,  'if  I  have  done  ill  I 
will  redeem  thy  friendship,'"  &c. 

This  is  the  meeting  of  Pwyll  and  Arawn  king  of 
Hades,  an  old-fashioned  Welsh  dialogue,  perhaps 
not  specially  notable  except  that  it  is  the  sort  of 
thing  no  English  writer  could  manage  well,  before 
the  days  of  Malory.  It  may  be  tliought  that  the 
art  of  the  Mabinogion  is  only  the  simple  liveliness 
found  in  many  popular  tales,  too  common  a  thing  for 
admiration.  But  there  is  a  difference  among  popular 
tales,  and  various  degrees  of  art  in  them :  if  the  Celtic 
fairy  tales  have  beauties  of  style,  these  are  not  to  be 
annulled  merely  because  they  are  popular.  If  one  can 
find  excellences  in  the  phrasing  of  stories  taken  down 
from  tradition  in  modern  Connemara,  resemblances  to 
the  style  of  old  Celtic  literary  narrative,  what  is  the 
conclusion  to  be  drawn  ?  That  old  Celtic  romance  is 
no  better  than  con!mon  Mdrchen'?     Or  that  it  is  pos- 


340        EUROPEAN   LITERATURE —THE   DARK   AGES. 

sible  for  a  Mcirchcn  to  be  a  work  of  art  ?  The  latter, 
surely.  The  Celtic  collections  of  fairy  tales  have  their 
own  distinct  character.  What  in  the  English  giant  is 
"  Fee  faw  fum,"  and  so  on,  is  in  Connaught  "  I  feel  the 
smell  of  a  melodious  lying  Irishman  under  my  sod  of 
country  " — a  more  interesting  formula.  The  style  of 
the  Knight  of  the  Red  Shield  as  given  by  Campbell  is 
not  less  artistic  than  the  courtly  poems  of  Fercival, 
where  like  adventures  are  found ;  and  the  Welsh 
Peredur  is  not  disgraced  by  its  resemblance,  in  some 
things,  to  the  AVest  Highland  tale.  If  the  manner 
of  the  fairy  tale,  humorous  or  fanciful,  is  like  much 
in  the  old  written  legends,  in  the  Welsh  Mahinogion, 
in  the  Irish  Saints'  Lives,  the  ancient  literature  is 
none  the  worse. 

The  Celtic  genius  has  been  debated  and  disputed 
for  a  long  time  past,  not  without  results.  It  is  clear 
that  many  things  have  passed  for  Celtic  which  are 
not  the  property  of  any  one  race.  There  is  a  "  Finnish 
genius "  known  in  Norway  ;  and  fantastic  tendencies 
in  a  Norwegian  author  are  traced  there  sometimes 
to  a  Finnish  ancestry,  just  as  Shakespeare  and  Keats 
have  been  derived  from  Wales,  and  for  similar  reasons  ; 
because  the  more  primitive  people  have  kept  their 
mythological  tastes  and  ideas  better  on  the  whole  than 
those  with  "  the  German  paste  in  their  composition." 
So  Polish  and  Bohemian  birth  is  sometimes  in 
Germany  made  to  explain  any  peculiar  originality 
of  temper ;  the  German  nations  apparently  having 
this  common  modest  reluctance  to  believe  that  they 
can  be  imaginative  on  their  own  a'ccount.    But  when 


IRELAND   AND   WALES.  341 

every  deduction  is  made   from  the  too  enthusiastic 
praise  of  Celtic  fantasy,  there  remains  a  Celtic  habit 
of  mind  unmistakable  and  inexhaustible  in  the  old 
Welsh  and  Irish  books.     It  is  not  to  be  understood 
merely  by  repeating   the   miracles  of  Cuchulinn   or 
Gwydion  son  of  Don,  because  these  can  be  matched 
elsewhere.     It  is  in  the  temper  more  than  the  imagina- 
tion,— a  peculiar  readiness  of  mind,  and  at  the  same 
time  an  intolerance  of  anything  that  comes  between 
the  mind  and  its  object.     "Failure  is  to  form  habits." 
This  moral  will  apply  to  much  of  the  Celtic  work 
in  literature,  powerful  as  its  customs  and  conventions 
are.      The   marginal   notes    and  exclamations  of  the 
learned  Irish  scribes,  the  little   scraps  of  irrelevant 
verse  written  by  wearied  copyists  in  old  Irish  manu- 
scripts, are  so  many  protests  of  the  living  creature 
against  tlie  weight  of  monotonous  duty.     Neither  St 
Patrick  nor  St  Brigit  could  prevent  them  from  think- 
ing freely,  and  the  Saints'  Lives  are  not  more  careful 
than  the  ballads  of  Ossian  to  keep  one  strict  religious 
view.      This  freedom  is  well  shown  in  the  Life  of 
St  Brigit  in  the  Book  of  Lismore^  in  the  following 

story  : — 

"  Once  her  father  entreated  holy  Brigit  to  go  to  the 
King  of  Leinster,  even  to  Ailill,  son  of  Dunlang,  to 
Theslryof  ask  for  the  transfer  of  the  ownership  of 
St  Brigit  and     ^|^g  sword  which  hc  had  given  to  him  (for 

the  King  of  ^,  -n    •    •.  . 

Leinster.         a  time)  ou  auothcr  occasion,     iirigit  went 

at  her  father's  commands.     A  slave  of  the  King  came 

to  converse  with  Brigit,  and  said:    'If  I  should  be 

1  Translated  by  Whitley  Stokes,  p.  193. 


342        EUliOi'EAN    LITERATURE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

saved  from  the  bondage  wherein  I  abide  with  the 
king,  I  should  become  a  Christian,  and  I  should 
serve  thee  and  the  Lord.'  Brii]jit  went  into  the 
fortress,  and  begged  two  boons  of  the  king,  to  wit, 
transfer  of  the  ownership  of  the  sword  to  Dubthach 
[her  father]  and  freedom  to  the  slave. 

"  *  Why  should  I  give  that  to  thee  ? '  said  the 
king. 

" '  Excellent  children  will  be  given  to  thee,'  said 
Brigit ;  '  and  kingship  to  thy  sons,  and  heaven  to 
thyself.' 

"Said  the  king:  'The  kingdom  of  heaven,  as  I 
see  it  not,  I  ask  it  not.  Kingship  for  my  sons,  more- 
over. I  ask  not,  for  I  myself  am  still  alive,  and  let 
each  one  work  in  his  time.  Give  me,  however, 
length  of  life  in  my  realm,  and  victoriousness  in 
battle  over  Conn's  Half;  for  there  is  often  warfare 
between  us.* 

"'  It  sliall  be  given,'  saith  Brigit." 

With  all  their  perseverance  in  study  and  in  religion, 
the  Irish  kept  their  minds  free :  at  any  moment  they 
could  hear  and  take  pleasure  in  the  liveliness  of  the 
real  world,  and  no  theology  nor  moral  law  could  pre- 
vent them  from  seeing  the  fun  of  it. 

The  Greek  literature  of  the  Dark  Ages  lies  apart 
from  the  rest.  The  distance  between  the  most  ex- 
Greeceinthe  travagaut  Irish  story  and  the  most  respect- 
DarJcAges.       ^^^Iq    jjjg^    German   school-book    can   be 

overcome,  and  a  relationship  proved  between  them, 
at  least  in  so  far  as  both  Irish  and  German  education 


GREECE.  343 

depend  upon  Latin.  The  history  of  Greek  authors 
during  this  time  has  little  bearing  on  the  progress  of 
Latin,  Teutonic,  or  Celtic  literature. 

There  is  likeness  in  the  fortunes  of  East  and 
West,  however ;  Constantinople  has  its  dark  age, 
followed  by  something  of  the  same  sort  as  the 
Western  mediaeval  literature  ;  the  life  of  the  Eom- 
ance  tongues  has  something  answering  to  it  in  the 
Eomaic. 

The  eighth  century  was  the  dark  age  in  Greece; 
after  that,  though  learning  revives,  more  of  an  effort 
is  required  to  keep  up  the  forms  of  ancient  Greek 
scholarship.  The  literary  language  does  not  flow  so 
easily ;  on  the  other  hand,  the  vulgar  tongue  asserts 
itself. 

Eomaic  verse  took  the  same  way  as  popular  Latin ; 
the  old  quantities  were  forgotten,  and  the  accents  re- 
placed them.  In  popular  Greek  there  was  much  less 
variety  of  rhythm  and  stanza  than  in  Latin ;  one 
single  type  of  accentual  line  became  the  universal 
measure,  called  political  verse,  which  means  popular, 
vulgar,  bourgeois. 

The  political  line  is  a  vulgar  form  of  the  classical 
iambic  tetrameter.  It  is  among  the  accidents  of 
taste  that  in  the  West  the  trochaic,  in  the 
East  the  iambic  tetrameter  should  have 
been  made  the  basis  of  the  most  popular  verse. 
The  iambic  also  is  well  known  in  the  West,  but  it 
never  had  the  vogue  of  the  other  measure: — 

"Cras  amet  qui  nunquam  amavit." 


344      EUROPEAN    LlTEKATUIiE — THE   DAKK   AGES. 

The  Greeks  preferred  the  measure  that  Philip  danced 
on  the  field  of  Chseronea  ^ — 

and  their  modern  poetry  is  all  in  this  common  metre, 
of  course  with  the  modern  accent.  It  is  found, 
complete  and  regular,  in  the  tenth  century :  a  song  is 
quoted  by  Constantine  Porphyrogenitus — 

iSe  TO  eap  to  yXvKv,  TrdXiv  eTravareA-Aet.^ 

The  chief  use  of  it  is  in  ballads  and  romances ;  the 

life  of  the  hero  Digenis  Akritas  is  especially  famous, 

and  has  been  compared   with  the  stories 

Digenis  Akritas.  .      ,  ^  ^ 

of  similar  matter  in  the  "Western  tongues, 
particularly  with  the  Cid.  There  are  four  extant  ver- 
sions, not  counting  the  ballads  still  current.*    The  more 

^  UapavriKa  fiev  ovv  b  ^iXnnros  4irl  rfj  v'lKri  5ia  t^v  ^apoti'  i^v^pi(ras 
Kal  Kw/Jidaas  itri  rovs  vcKpovs  /xedvccv  ^8e  Tr]v  apxh^  rod  Ari/xocrdevovs 
iprjcpiaixaros  Trpbs  ttc^Sk  hiaipwv  Kal  viroKpovwv,  k.t.A.  — Plutarch, 
Demosthenes,  c.   20. 

"  Now  Philip  having  won  the  battell,  he  was  at  that  present  so 
joyfull,  that  he  fell  to  commit  many  fond  parts.  For  after  he  had 
drunke  well  with  his  friends,  he  went  into  the  place  where  the  over- 
throw was  given,  and  there  in  mockery  began  to  sing  the  beginning 
of  the  decree  which  Demosthenes  had  preferred  (by  the  which  the 
Athenians  accordingly  proclaimed  warre  against  him),  rising  and  fall- 
ing with  his  voice,  and  dancing  it  in  measure  with  his  foote,"  &c. 
—  (North's  translation.) 

^  May  be  sung  to  the  tune  of — 

"  Come,  landlord,  fill  the  flowing  bowl  until  it  doth  run  over." 

^  Krumbacher,  Gesch.  dcr  hyzantinischen  Litteratw,  p.  255. 

^  Les  exploits  dc  Digenis  ATcritas,  4popee  hyzantine  du  dixiemc  s'lede, 
ed.  C.  Sathas  and  E.  Legrand,  1875.  Cf.  E.  Legrand,  Rccueil  de 
chansons  populaires  grecques,  1874  ;  Krumbacher,   op.  cit.,  p.  831. 


GREECE.  345 

formal  poems  have  been  put  together  out  of  earlier 
separate  lays.  There  seems  to  be  no  doubt  that  this 
Homeric  theory  holds  good  of  Digenis  Akritas,  though 
some  of  the  Homers  have  been  too  prosaic. 

The  hero  Basil,  called  Digenes  because  his  father 
and  mother  are  of  different  races,  is  Warden  of  the 
Marches  (a/cptVa?)  on  the  Euphrates,  and  his  enemies 
are  the  outlaws  over  the  border.  The  story  is  full 
of  incidents  such  as  are  common  in  the  French 
romances, — the  winning  of  the  lady  Eudocia,  the 
fight  with  the  dragon,  even  the  description  of  the 
season  of  May  and  the  beauties  of  the  garden,  like 
many  a  vergier  in  the  French  books.  Digenis,  how- 
ever, though  a  great  champion,  would  have  been 
hooted  as  a  felon  knight  for  some  things  in  his 
biography  ;  his  betrayal  of  the  damsel  in  his  charge 
requires  the  vengeance  of  Sir  Guyon  or  Sir  Arthegall, 
and  his  repentance  is  filthy.  In  the  story  of  his 
contest  with  the  maiden  warrior,  the  gloating  respect- 
ability of  the  Byzantine  author  has  spoilt  a  good 
passage  of  old  romance,  which  in  Welsh  or  Irish 
would  have  sounded  better.  The  epic  of  Digenis  is 
neither  frank  in  the  primitive  way  nor  chivalrous  in 
the  modern  sense.  But  the  ballads  are  all  right,  and 
where  the  epic  is  wrong,  the  popular  ballad  tradition 
need  not  be  blamed  for  it. 

One    Byzantine    author    who    wrote    both    in    the 

classical  and  the  vulgar  tongue,  Theodoras  Prodromus, 

Theodorns      J^  his  tastcs  and  devices  often  looks  like 

Prodromus.     ^^^  ^f  ^j-^g  vagabond  mediaeval  clerks,  one 

of  the  hungry  and  reckless  poets  who  deal  in  satire 


346        EUROPEAN   LITERATUEE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

railing,  and  humorous  petitions  for  a  benefice  —  a 
goliardeis,  the  Skelton  of  his  time  and  language. 
He  lived  in  the  first  half  of  the  twelfth  century, 
under  Alexius,  John,  and  Manuel  Comnenus.  The 
list  of  his  works  is  varied :  he  wrote  in  verse  the 
romance  of  Dosicles  and  Eodanthe,  and  an  allegory 
of  the  twelve  months,  besides  a  number  of  occa- 
sional pieces,  and  many  essays  in  prose.  These  are 
in  the  correct  literary  language,  as  are  some  of  his 
satires ;  but  he  also  used  political  verse  and  the 
vulgar  tongue  in  his  character  of  a  beggar  {Ptoclio- 
prodromus)  writing  on  the  sorrows  of  marriage,  the 
vanity  of  learning,  and  the  misery  of  his  family.^ 
The  old  text — Quid  dant  artes? — is  fully  expounded 
by  him. 

The  Greek  anthology  belongs  in  a  sense  to  these 

ages.     The  great  collection  of  Constantine  Cephalas 

in  the  tenth  century  (Antholoqia  Palatind) 

The  Anthology.  .  .  .  ,        . 

was  not  merely  antiquarian  work;  it  pro- 
vided for  the  fashionable  taste  in  poetry.  The  old 
forms  of  epigram  were  not  disused ;  they  persevered 
through  the  clianges  of  many  centuries,  as  the  sonnet 
has  done. 

There  were  poets  in  the  time  of  Justinian,  Paulus 
Silentiarius,  and  others,  "a  brief  renascence  of 
amatory  poetry  in  the  sixth  century."^  But  perhaps 
it  is  only   as  a  matter  of   general  culture  that  the 

^  Trois  poemes  vulgaires  de  Theodore  Prodrome,  ed.  Miller  aud 
Legrand,  1875. 

^  Mackail,  Select  Epigrams  from  the  Gretk  Anthology,  Introduc- 
tion, p.  35. 


THE  ROMANCE  TONGUE.  347 

Anthology  should  be  mentioned  here :  where  it  is 
merely  learned,  it  is  Byzantine;  where  it  is  poetry, 
it  is  ancient  Greek. 

Byzantine  prose  is  something  like  mediaeval  Latin 

in   its   unprogressive   character.      The  old    examples 

were  there,  and   they  might   be   imitated 

Byzantine  Prose.  ^  k  r  •  i 

by  any  one — by  Anna  Comnena  m  the 
twelfth,  as  by  Procopius  in  the  sixth  century,  or  by 
the  earlier  men  of  letters  whom  Lucian  exhibited  in 
his  essay  on  History.  Yet  there  was  a  difference 
between  Greek  and  Latin ;  and  the  Greek  who  copied 
Thucydides,  however  late,  was  nearer  his  master  than 
the  mediaeval  imitator  of  Sallust.  He  had  not  to  pre- 
tend so  much ;  and  there  was  no  sense  of  barbarous 
associations  to  be  got  rid  of  before  the  classical  work 
could  begin. 

The  chief  prose  author  about  the  middle  of  the 
period  is  Photius  (c.  820 — c.  891),  who  represents 
the  learning  of  the  time  in  his  miscellaneous  review 
of  the  books  he  read,  the  huge  collection  of  note-books 
called  Myriohiblon,  in  which  so  much  is  preserved  of 
Greek  authors  whose  works  have  disappeared.^ 
Among  many  more  serious  things  Photius  entered 
the  novels  he  read ;  it  is  from  him  that  we  have  the 
plot  of  the  Wonders  heyond  Tlvule,  which  prompted 
Lucian  to  write  his  True  History. 

"  Roman  "  or  "  Eomance  "  {lingua  Roynana,  Ronianice 
loq;iii)  is  a  common  term  for  the  popular  varieties  of 
Latin,  whether  in  Italy,  Gaul,  or  Spain.     Before  the 

^  Photii  Bihliotheca  ex  receiisione  Immanuelis  Bekkeri,  1824. 


348        EUROPEAN   LITERATURE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

twelfth  century  it  hardly  belongs  to  literary  history 
in  any  distinct  form,  excepting  French  and  Proven9al 
The  Romance  poetry,  and  of  these  there  is  not  much 
Languages,  preserved  froni  the  early  period.  There 
were  certainly  poems  and  singers  before  the  Strassburg 
oaths  of  842,  but  they  have  disappeared ;  and  the  oaths 
of  Charles  and  his  men,  in  Nithard,  are  the  oldest  re- 
corded French.  The  oldest  extant  verse  is  religious : 
the  Valenciennes  sequence  of  St  Eiilalia,  a  life  of  St 
Leger,  a  poem  on  the  Passion.  The  verse  of  Eulalia 
follows  exactly  the  pattern  of  the  Latin  sequence,  by 
a  method  more  frequent  and  more  prolific  in  Germany, 
where  the  sequences  influenced  the  vulgar  tongue  much 
more  than  in  France.  The  Passion  and  St  Leger,  on 
the  other  hand,  are  in  the  familiar  short  couplets 
which  survived  as  the  regular  form  of  conveyance  for 
every  kind  of  subject  down  to  the  close  of  the  Middle 
Ages.  But  the  couplets  do  not  run  on  with  the 
freedom  of  later  poems ;  they  are  made  into  stanzas 
of  four  lines  in  the  Passion,  of  six  in  The  Life  of  St 
Leger.  The  early  Provengal  refrain  of  the  alha  has 
been  quoted  in  a  previous  chapter.  A  Limousin 
version  of  Boethius  has  the  ten-syllable  line  which 
is  the  favourite,  though  not  the  only  verse,  for 
Chansons  de  geste.  The  same  decasyllabic  line  in 
staves  of  five  is  found  in  the  interesting  life  of  St 
Alexis  (eleventh  century) :  the  four  successive  versions 
of  this  story,  as  arranged  in  the  well-known  edition,^ 
make  a  specimen  of  poetical  development  or  de- 
generacy, from  the  eleventh  to  the  fourteenth  century, 

^  By  Ga«tou  Paris  and  L.  Pannier,  1872. 


THE  ROMANCE  TONGUE.  349 

which  illustrates  a  large  amount  of  mediaeval  liter- 
ature :  nowhere  else  can  the  ways  of  adapters  be 
observed  so  conveniently.  Each  century  has  its  own 
way  of  telling  the  story ;  the  four  successive  versions 
are  there  for  comparison.  Something  positive  may 
be  learned  from  them  as  to  the  way  in  which  epic 
poetry  conforms  with  new  fashions;  none  of  the 
epic  poems  properly  so-called  exhibit  the  stages  of 
transformation  so  clearly. 

The  conjectural  history  of  the  early  French  epic 

has  been  worked  out-with  great  diligence  by  a  number 

of  scholars.^     The  evidence  is  of  different 

French  Epic.    ,  .     ,  t     j  •        i  •  •  ^        t 

knids.  Latm  historians  may  record  ad- 
ventures that  are  found  long  afterwards  in  Cha7iso7is 
de  geste:  the  death  of  Eoland,  the  valour  of  William 
of  Orange,  the  banishment  of  Ogier,  are  all  noted  in 
this  way.  Sometimes  the  matter  has  been  much 
altered  and  the  names  forgotten ;  the  history  of 
Dagobert  has  been  turned  into  the  epic  of  Floovent 
Sometimes  the  historians  have  preserved  a  fragment 
or  two  that  proves  the  existence  in  their  day  of  things 
no  longer  known  in  French.  Such  are  the  verses  in 
the  life  of  St  Faro  ^  which  roughly  imitate  the  metre 
and  the  assonances  of  French  heroic  poetry.  The 
schoolboy's  Latin  prose  of  the  "  Hague  Fragment/'  ^ 

^  Leon  Gautier,  Les  Epopees  francaises  ;  G.  Paris,  Histoire  poeiique 
de  Charlemagne  ;  Piq^Rajua,  Le  Origini  delV  epopea  francese ;  Paulin 
Paris,  in  Hist.  litt.  de  la  France,  xxvi. 

2  See  above,  p.  75. 

2  Pertz,  Scriptores,  iii.  p.  708  ;  Gaston  Paris,  Hist.  poet,  de  Charle- 
magne, p.  465  sq.  ;  Les  Narhonnais,  Chanson  de  geste,  ed.  Sucliier 
(1898),  tome  ii.  pp.  Ixvi,  168  sq. 


350        EUKOPEAN   LITERATURE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

as  it  is  teclmically  called,  has  been  shown  to  be  a 
version  from  a  poem  in  Latin  hexameters  on  part 
of  the  wars  of  Charlemagne  against  the  Saracens 
— probably  the  siege  of  Narbonne,  famous  in  the 
Chansons  de  geste.  In  the  history  of  French  epic, 
the  Latin  poem  of  this  siege  is  like  Waltharius  in 
German,  and  gives  the  same  sort  of  evidence  as  to 
lost  originals  in  the  vulgar  tongue. 

Besides  Roland,  there  are  two  other  extant  poems 
belonging  to  the  earlier  period  of  French  epic — the 
The  Pilgrimage  Voyage  of  Charlemagne,  and  Gormond  and 
of  Charlemagne.  jsemMrt.  An  Italian  history  in  the  tenth 
century  tells  of  the  expedition  of  Charlemagne  to 
Jerusalem,  and  how  he  bridged  the  passage  between 
Italy  and  Greece.^  Liutprand  tells  about  the  remark- 
able furniture  of  the  Imperial  house  at  Constan- 
tinople ;  the  rich  things  there  came  to  be  reckoned 
among  the  wonders  of  the  world,  and  gave  ideas  to 
many  authors  of  romance.  The  French  poem  of  the 
pilgrimage  of  Charlemagne  is  not  affected  by  the 
crusade,  and  must  have  been  composed  before  it. 
The  interest  of  it  is  largely  comic ;  the  enormous 
boasting  of  tlie  paladins  and  their  miraculous  suc- 
cesses are  more  like  the  humour  of  Morgante  and 
other  Italian  stories  than  the  heroism  of  BoloMd. 
The  Pilgrimage  was  in  all  senses  a  popular  story, 
and  was  taken  over  by  the  Welsh,  Norse,  and  other 
languages.^ 

Gormond  and  Isemhart,  otherwise  known  as  Ze  Hoi 

^  Chron.  Benedicti.     See  Ebert,  iii.  p.  443. 

*  Cf.  Gaston  Paris,  La  pot  sic  du  moyen  dye  (1885),  p.  119. 


THE   ROMANCE   TONGUK  351  . 

Louis,  is  on  the  same  subject  as  the  Rithmus  Teu- 
tonicus  of  881 — the  victory  of  the  young 
king  Louis  over  the  Normans.  The  chron- 
icier  Hariiilf  of  St  Eiquier  (early  twelfth  century) 
speaks  of  the  story  as  familiar,  "every  day  repeated 
and  sung."^  Only  a  fragment  is  preserved,^  but  the 
historian  Philippe  Mousket  gives  a  long  abstract  of 
the  story  from  a  later  version,  and  a  German  trans- 
lation of  a  lost  French  poem,  Loliier  et  Mallart,  also 
contains  it.^  The  fragment  is  in  octosyllabic  lines,  not 
the  verse  of  Roland;  these  are,  however,  rhymed  in 
the  epic  way,  in  laisses,  each  with  the  same  assonance. 
One  of  the  oldest  poems  on  Alexander  has  the  same 
form.     But  King  Lewis  also  uses  a  rhymed  refrain  : — 

"  Quant  il  ot  mort  les  bons  vassaus, 
Ariere  encliaQa  les  chevaus  : 
Pois  mist  avant  sun  estandart 
Nem  la  li  bailie  un  tuenart"  {i.e.,  a  sliield). 

In  this  it  is  impossible  to  mistake  the  chant  of  the 
ballad  chorus  ;  the  poem  keeps  some  of  the  country 
manners  wliich  the  later  Chansons  de  geste  gave  up.  It 
has  also  another  old  fashion  which  was  not  abandoned 
in  the  regular  Chansons — the  repetition  of  the  same 
matter  with  different  rhymes.  It  is  one  of  the  com- 
monest devices  in  ballad  poetry — in  Sir  Patrick  Spens, 
for  example ;  and  the  Chansons  de  geste,  though  they 
have  lost  the  ballad  burden,  keep  this  old  trick  of 
repetition,  a  birthmark  of  their  rustic  descent. 

*  "Patriensium  memoria  quotidie  recolitur  et  cantatur." — Chron- 
icle of  the  Abbey  of  St  Riquier  in  Ponthieu,  ed.  F.  Lot,  iii.  p.  20. 
2  Ed.  Scheler  ;  ed.  Heiligbrodt,  ap.  Bohmer,  Romanische  Studicn,\\\. 
Gaston  Paris,  in  Hist.  litt.  de  la  France,  xxviii.  p.  239  sqq. 


352        EUROPEAN   LITERATURE — THE   DARK   AGES. 

The  story  is  something  more  than  the  simple 
triumph  of  the  Ludivigslicd.  In  the  French  epic,  the 
adversary  Gormond  is  visited  (at  Cirencester)  by  the 
traitor  Isembart,  and  brought  to  war  in  France  with 
his  heathen  host  of  Turks  and  Persians.^  Gormond  is 
a  Saracen,  as  Julius  Csesar  also  occasionally  was,  in 
mediseval  tradition.  The  matter,  much  less  elaborate 
than  in  Roland,  is  of  the  same  Homeric  kind,  separate 
encounters  of  champions.  There  are  laments  over 
friends  and  foes.     Lewis  has  regrets  for  Gormond : — 

"  Loois  ad  trove  Gormunt 
A  I'estendart  en  sun  le  mont ; 
Eegreta  le  com  gentil  horn  : 
Tant  mare  fustes,  rei  baron  ! 
Se  creissiez  al  Creator 
Meudre  vassal  ne  fust  de  vus." 

The  gentleness  of  this  and  the  extreme  simplicity 
of  its  expression  are  purely  French  of  the  old  school, 
though  something  of  both  survives  in  later  ages  :  there 
are  many  responses  in  Froissart  to  this  old  kind  of 
heroic  sentiment.  Other  more  ordinary  epic  motives 
may  be  found  in  the  poem,  such  as  the  old  appeal  to 
gratitude  :  "  Let  us  avenge  him,  for  he  gave  us  castles 
and  lands,  the  ermine,  vair  and  gray." 

This  last  phrase  is  warning  that  the  first  great 
period  of  the  Middle  Age  has  drawn  to  an  end ;  the 
"  vair  and  the  gray "  belong  to  a  newer  world.  Al- 
though many  of  the  French  epics  deal  with  simple  old- 

1  "  Persuadcnte  id  fieri  quodam  Esimbardo  Francigena  nobili  qui 
regis  Hludogvici  animos  offenderat,  quique  genitalis  soli  proditor 
gentium  barbariem  nostros  fines  viserehortabatur." — Hai-iulf,  loc.  cit. 


THE  ROMANCE  TONGUE.  35.3 

fashioned  feuds,  like  those  of  the  Icelandic  sagas,  the 
greater  number,  Roland  among  them,  are 

Roland,        °  i 

full  of  new  sentiments  and  ideas.  Instead 
of  the  old  personal  motives,  there  enter  the  larger  con- 
ceptions of  religious  faith  and  national  glory.  The 
song  of  Boland,  though  earlier  than  the  First  Crusade, 
is  a  crusading  epic — the  poem  of  Christendom  against 
the  infidel.  It  is  also  the  epic  of  France,  "  sweet 
France";  the  honour  of  the  kingdom  is  constantly  re- 
membered, and  not  merely  out  of  duty,  but  because  it 
is  the  spirit  and  life  of  the  poem,  as  much  as  Eome  is 
in  the  jEneid.  Naturally,  the  grandeur  and  solem- 
nity of  these  ruling  thoughts  make  the  epic  of  Eonces- 
valles  very  different  from  most  of  the  Teutonic  poems, 
where  the  characters  have  seldom  any  impersonal 
cause  to  fight  for,  and  the  heroic  moral  is  restricted 
to  the  bond  of  loyalty  between  a  lord  and  his  com- 
panions. In  Boland,  and  very  generally  in  French 
epic,  there  is  an  envelopment  of  impersonal  thoughts 
all  round  the  action  and  the  characters.  They  stand 
for  France  and  the  true  religion ;  and  the  heroes  lose 
as  dramatis  personce  what  they  gain  as  representing 
grand  ideas. 

Yet  with  all  this  anticipation  of  later  modes  of 
thought  and  later  fashions  of  chivalry,  Boland  has 
much  of  the  same  spirit  as  the  Teutonic  poems.  The 
type  of  the  old  French  epic  is  essentially  distinct  from 
the  narrative  forms  invented  in  the  Komantic  schools 
of  the  twelfth  century.  Though  the  extant  versions 
are  comparatively  late,  French  epic  poetry  belongs 
truly  to  the  earlier  Middle  Ages.     In  fact,  one  of  the 

Z 


354         EUROPEAN   LITERATURE — THE  DARK   AGES. 

best  reasons  for  making  an  epoch  in  literary  history 
here,  at  the  close  of  the  eleventh  century,  is  the  differ- 
ence between  French  epic  of  the  former  age  and  the 
French  romances  that  succeeded  and  displaced  them. 
The  epic  of  Roland  may  be  taken,  in  a  way,  as  closing 
the  Dark  Ages. 

There  is  no  need  to  repeat  at  any  great  length  the 
well-known  story.  It  is  very  simple  in  construction ; 
the  grievance  of  Ganelon  against  Eoland,  who  had 
laughed  at  him  in  Council,  is  followed  by  Ganelon's 
dangerous  embassy  to  the  paynim  king  Marsile  at 
Saragossa.  Ganelon,  though  a  traitor  and  bent  on 
treason,  behaves  with  great  courage,  and  shows  that  he 
does  not  value  his  own  safety ;  there  is  no  unjust  de- 
preciation of  the  wicked  man,  as  there  often  is  in 
conventional  romance.  Then  the  treason  is  planned, 
whereby  Eoland  and  the  peers,  with  the  rearguard  of 
Charlemagne,  returning  to  France  are  led  into  an  am- 
bush at  the  pass  of  Eoncesvalles.  The  chief  thing  in 
the  drama  is  Eoland's  refusal  to  blow  his  horn  and 
call  back  Charlemagne  and  the  vanguard  to  help. 
Only  when  half  the  peers  have  fallen  and  it  is  too 
late,  he  sounds  his  olifaunt  and  Charlemagne  returns. 
The  latter  part  of  the  poem  is  concerned  with  the 
vengeance  taken  by  the  Emperor,  first  upon  the 
Moors,  then  upon  the  traitor  Ganelon.  Thus  the  story 
proceeds  in  an  even  way,  with  beginning,  middle,  and 
end :  there  is  no  uncertainty  as  to  tlie  right  points  of 
interest,  no  useless  digression  or  unnecessary  sequel. 
Its  poetical  quality  is  at  first  hard  to  appreciate ;  both 
characters  and  language  appear  too  rude,  too  little 


THE  ROMANCE  TONGUE.  355 

elaborate.  The  simplicity  of  the  characters  is  partly 
explained  and  justified  by  the  predominance  of  the 
impersonal  motives  already  spoken  of:  the  poet  has 
other  things  in  his  mind  besides  the  pure  dramatic 
business.  Though  in  any  case  it  must  be  acknow- 
ledged that  neither  in  Boland  nor  elsewhere  does 
French  epic  come  near  the  strength  of  character  pre- 
sented in  the  Northern  poems  (for  example)  of  Sigurd, 
Brynhild,  and  Gudrun.  The  language,  too,  is  under 
utterly  different  laws  from  those  of  Anglo-Saxon  or 
Icelandic  verse.  There  is  no  poetic  diction,  but  "  a 
selection  of  language  really  used  by  men."  The  rhe- 
toric is  not  of  the  favourite  Anglo-Saxon  sort,  calling 
things  by  their  poetical  names ;  but  is  shown,  less 
obtrusively,  in  the  effective  placing  of  ordinary  terms, 
in  syntax  rather  than  vocabulary.  This  idiomatic 
simplicity  is  common  to  all  old  French  literature,  and 
indeed  to  all  the  mediaeval  tongues  in  theii^ prose:  the 
great  beauty  of  the  Chansons  de  geste  is  that  they 
produce  stronger  effects  with  weaker  verbal  materials 
than  any  other  poetical  form.  They  have  the  un- 
affected speech  which  is  characteristic  of  old  French 
verse  and  prose ;  sometimes  they  raise  this  to  sub- 
limity, it  is  hard  to  tell  how.  There  are  few  traces 
of  the  grammar-school  in  Boland:  one  specimen  of  a 
"  turn  upon  words  "  may  be  quoted  as  exceptional : — 

**  Par  bele  amur  malvais  salut  i  firent." — 1.  2710. 

But  there  is  art  of  a  better  kind  than  this  all  through 
the  poem,  in  simple  phrases.  The  strongest  rhetorical 
effect  is  made  by  the  use  of  a  single  emphatic  line  at 


356         EUROPEAN    LITERATURE— THE   DARK   AGES. 

the  close  of  a  period :  a  device  as  well  understood  in 
the  Chanson  de  Roland  as  in  the  Ligende  des  Sidcles. 

The  battle  is  described  in  the  Homeric  way,  not  un- 
like the  method  of  Waltharius  and  Byrhtnoth.  It  is 
easy  to  make  this  kind  of  story  monotonous  and  con- 
ventional. Boland  avoids  the  danger  with  more  suc- 
cess than  many  combats  in  the  Iliad:  the  separate 
adventures  are  held  together  by  the  mountains  of  the 

pass — 

*'  Halt  sunt  11  pui  e  tenebrus  e  grant " — 

and  the  surges  of  battle  come  with  increasing  force  up 
to  the  breaking-point,  when  the  pride  of  Koland  gives 
way  and  the  horn  is  blown. 

In  the  next  age,  the  old  Teutonic  languages  and 
their  arts  of  poetry  have  fallen  back,  and  the  chief 
glory  is  with  the  Eomance  tongues,  French  and  Pro- 
vencal ;  or  with  the  German  tongues  on  account  of 
their  submission  to  French  and  ProvenQal  masters, 
and  their  profitable  imitation  of  new  models.  But 
before  this  literary  revolution  the  French  epic  poets 
had  done  great  things  in  an  older  fashion,  and  in  a 
spirit  which  in  many  ways  resembles  that  of  the 
Northern  heroic  age.  Heroic  poetry  is  the  chief  im- 
aginative work  in  this  early  period,  and  the  French, 
along  with  the  poets  of  England  and  Iceland,  had 
their  share  in  it 


INDEX. 


Abbo,  35,  159. 

Abelard,  210, 

Acircius — i.e.,    King-    Aldfritli     of 

Northumberland,   140. 
Adamnan,  146-150 ;  vision  of,  72. 
^Ifric,  36,  311. 
Agobard  of  Lyons,  161. 
Alboin,    King    of   the    Lombards, 

164. 
Alcuin,  86,  151-153,  172. 
Aldfrith,  King  of  Northumberland, 

140,  143. 
Aldhelm,  34,  91,  139-141. 
Alexander,   Romance  of,  QS,   309  ; 

his  Epistle  to  Aristotle,  68  ;  old 

English  version  of,  310. 
Alexis,  St,  348. 
Alfred,  King,  116,  308-310. 
Allegory,  27  sqg. 
Alvissmdl,  276. 
Ambrose,  St,  205  sqq. 
Andreas.     See  Cyuewulf. 
Aneurin,  334. 
Angantyr,  226,  296. 
An -filbert,  154. 
Anglo-Saxon  poetry,  247-267 ;  prose, 

307-312. 
Anthology,  the  Greek,  346. 
Apollonius  of  Tyre,  68,  310. 
Apuleius,  34,  41. 
Arabic  literature,  14. 
Ari  the  Wise,  315. 
Aristotle,  304. 

Arnold,  Matthew,  on  Celtic  mytho- 
logy, 59. 


Arthur,  King,  63,  336. 
Asser,  177,  309. 

Augustine,  St,  41,  207  sqq.,  810. 
Ausonius,  122,  124. 

Bacchylides,  282. 

Balder,  55,  281. 

Barbour,  quoted,  75. 

Barlaam  and  Josaphat,  73. 

Barmby,  Beatrice  Helen,  307. 

Bartsch,  Karl,  218. 

Baudelaire,  Charles,  210. 

Bede,   33,   40,   141-146,    200,    204, 

310. 
Biarkamdl,  297. 
Bible,  as  source  of  romanc,  65, 
Benedict,  St,  119,  137. 
Beowidf,  82,  250-254. 
Berengar,  King  of  Italy,  183. 
Bernard  de  Veutadour,  8,  329. 
Bernlef,  the  Frisian  harper  (iu  Alt- 

frid's  Vita  Liudgeri,  c.  840),  79. 
Blake,  his  Marriage  of  Heaven  and 

Hell,  103. 
Blickling  Homilies,  311. 
Blome,  Richard,  33. 
Boccaccio,  37,  42,  ]35. 
Boethius,  40, 101, 103-117,  309,  317, 

348. 
Boniface,  St,  150. 
Brandan,  St,  62. 
Brigit,  St,  341. 

Browne,  Sir  Thomas,  quoted,  87. 
Browning,  Robert,  214. 
Brunehild,  122,  127. 


358 


INDEX 


Brynhild,  282,  291. 

Buddha,  73. 

Budge,  Dr  Wallis,  on  Alexander,  69. 

Butler,    Samuel,   his   Comvio)iplace 

Book  quoted,  73. 
Byrhtnoth,  254. 
Byron  quoted,  43. 

Caedmon,  255. 

Campbell,  J.  F.,  91,  340. 

Careimanning,  a  tune,  221. 

Carlyle,  on  the  Edda,  48. 

Carolan  the  Bard,  79. 

Cassiodorus,  101,  117-119. 

Celtic  literature,  15,  58,  319-342. 

Cerball,  Song  of  the  Sword  of,  331. 

Cervantes,  on  prose  epic,  79, 

Chapelain,  on  the  Dark  Ages,  3  ; 
his  allegory,  31. 

Chapman,  George,  quoted,  109. 

Charles  the  Bald,  Emperor,  174. 

Charles  the  Fat,  Emperor,  175. 

Charles  the  Great,  Emperor  (Char- 
lemagne), 150  sqq.,  219,  350,  354. 

Chaucer,  63,  69,  109,  116. 

Chilperic,  127,  129. 

Ghronide,  The  English,  308  sq. 

Cicero,  Somnium  Scipionis,  27,  70. 

Claudian,  43. 

Clothair  II.,  ballad  of,  75. 

Clovis,  117,  126. 

Columba,  St,  146  sqq.,  210,  329. 

Constantiue  Porphyrogenitus,  Em- 
peror, 184.  344. 

Cormac  MacLethan,  149. 

Corpus  Poeticnin  Boreale,  77,  164, 
305,  pa55M«,. 

Craigie,  Mr  W.  A.,  229. 

Cuchulinn,  60,  81,  322. 

Cunincpert,  King  of  the  Lombards, 
166. 

Cynewulf,  261-265. 

D'Ancoua,  Alessandro,  106. 
Daniel,    Samuel,    his    Defence    of 

Ryme,  quoted,  19. 
Daniel  (Anglo-Saxon),  261. 
Dante,  40,  105,  113,  161. 
Dart,    Song   of  the  (Gray's  Fatal 

Sisters),  298. 
Deirdre,  326. 

Dear's  Lament,  233,  254  sq. 
Dialogue  in  mediaaval  literature,  86. 
Digenis  Akrit'is,  344  sq. 


Dino  Compagnl,  95. 

Dreatn  of  the  Rood,  262,  26&. 

Drihthelm,  vision  of,  71,  145. 

Echasis  Captivi,  226. 

Eckenlied,  227. 

Edda  of  Snorri  Sturluson,  46  sqq. 

Edda,  the  Elder,  a  misnomer    but 

convenient,  267. 
Edwin,  King  of  Northumberland, 

145. 
Egil  Skallagrimsson  of  Borg,  217, 

298  sq. 
Einbard,  171-174. 
Eiriksmdl,  300. 
Ekkehard,  Dean  of  St  Gall,  author 

of  Walthari^is,  q.v.,  196. 
Ekkehard    of   St    Gall,    historian, 

176,  244,  317,  318. 
Elene.     See  Cynewulf. 
Ennius,  202,  205,  212. 
Erigena,  161-163. 
Ermanaric,  130,  294. 
Ermoldus  NigeUus,  155-158. 
Kulalia,  St,  220  sqq.,  348. 
Euphues,  94. 

Eustace,  St.  See  Placidas. 
Exodus  (Anglo-Saxon),  259. 
Eyvind  Skaldaspillir,  poet,  300. 

Faro,  St,  life  of,  75,  349. 

Fei^h,    Wooing  of,  an  Irish  heroic 

tale,  327. 
Finneshurh,  250. 
Flodoard  of  Rheims,  180. 
Floovent,  349. 
Fortunatus,   Venantius,   101,    119- 

124. 
Fredegarius,  139. 
Fredegund,  123,  127. 
French  literature,  348-356. 
Frey.     See  Skirnismdl. 
Froissart,  quoted,  129. 
Fulgentius,  25,  110. 
Furseus,  vision  of,  71,  145. 

Genesis  (Anglo-Saxon),  255  sqq, 

Geraint,  334,  337. 

Gerherg,    Abbess  of  Gandersheim, 

177,  179. 
Gerbert,  188,  198. 

German  poetry,  Old  High,  237-245  ; 

prose,  316-318. 
Gildas,  131,  215. 


INDEX. 


359 


Gisl  Illugason,  poet,  300. 

Gododin,  335. 

Goldsniitli  on  the  Obscure  Ages,  2  ; 

on  Carolan  the  Bard,  79. 
Gollancz,  Professor,  229. 
Gormond  and  Isenihart,  350. 
Gothic  language,  307. 
Gottscalc,  161,  217. 
Gray,  285. 

Greek  literature,  342-347. 
Gregory  of  Tours,  102,  125-130. 
Gregory    the    Great,   24,   132-138, 

309,  310. 
Grimm,  226,  263. 
Grimnismdl,  27 Q. 
Grimwald,  King  of  the  Lombards, 

168-170. 
Gripisspd,  290. 
Gudrun,  292  sqq. 
Guest,  Lady  Charlotte,  336. 
Gui  de  Basoches,  215. 
Gunther.     See  Waltharius. 
Gunthram,    King  of   the   Franks, 

165. 
Guthlac.    See  Cynewulf. 

Hadwig,  niece  of  Otho  the  Great, 
177,  196  sq. 

Hagen.     See  Walthariiis. 

"  Hague  Fragment,"  349  sq. 

ffdkonarmdl,  300. 

Harald  (Hardrada),  307. 

Harald,  King  of  Norway  (Fair- 
hair),  30a. 

Harald,  King  of  the  Danes,  158. 

Hariulf,  351. 

Harrowing  of  Hell,  66. 

Hatch,  Dr,  Hihbert  Lectures,  31. 

"Hauk's  Book,"  313. 

Hdvamdl,  270-274. 

Heidrek,  King,  91. 

Heimskringla  (Lives  of  the  Kings 
of  Norway),  preface  quoted,  77. 

Helgi,  287-290. 

Heliand,  245-247  ;  and  the  Saxon 
Genesis,  256  sqq. 

Heroic  poetry,  73-86,  232  sqq.,  249, 
349  sqq. 

Hervor,  296. 

Heiisler,  Professor,  281,  283. 

Hialmar,  Northern  hero,  295. 

"  Hibernicus  Exul,"  154,  216. 

Hickes,  Dr  George,  his  Thesaurus, 
18,  295. 


Hildebrand,  229,  237  sqq. 
Hildefonsus  of  Toledo,  139. 
Hildegund.     See  Waltharius. 
Hincmar  of  Rheims,  162. 
Hisperica  Famina,  35,  131. 
Hlod  and  Angantyr  (Icelandic),  82. 
Hodgkin,  Mr  Thomas,  118. 
Homer,  51,  81  sqq.,  87,  247. 
Horn,  the  golden,  232. 
Hornklofi,  300. 
Hrabanus  Maurus,   139,  160,   217, 

243. 
Hrotswith,   nun    of   Gandersheim, 

179. 
Hrungnir,  52. 
Hugh,  abbot,   son  of  Charles  the 

Great,  214. 
Hugh,  King  of  Italy,  183. 
Hugo,  Victor,  his  poem  of  Nemrod 

(La  Fin  de  Satan),  69. 
Hyndla,  Lay  of,  279. 

Icelandic    poetry,     248,    267-307  ; 

prose,  312-316. 
Irish  literature,  319-332. 
Isidore  of  Seville,  138. 
Ivar  Ingimund's  son,  poet,  300. 

Jacobs,  Mr  Joseph,  73  n, 
Jakobsen,  Dr  Jakob,  91. 
John,  Mr  Ivor,  336,  337. 
Jordanes,  130. 

Jubainviile,  M.  D'Arbois  de,  81. 
Jiulith  (Anglo-Saxon),  258,  266. 
Julian  of  Toledo,  139. 
Juliana.     See  Cynewulf. 
Juvencus    MS.,    with    old    Welsh 
poems,  332. 

Keats,  321. 

Kidhwch  and  Olwen,  64,  337. 

Landndmabok,  315. 

Lang,  Mr  Andrew,  quoted,  282. 

Lapidaries,  95. 

Latin  verse,  popular,  199-227. 

Leger,  St,  348. 

"Leich"  in  Middle  High  German, 

221. 
Leo,  Emperor,  185. 
Lewis  the  Pious,  Emperor,  155  sqq. 
Lewis  III.,  Emperor,  245,  351. 
Liehing,  a  tune,  221,  227. 
Lindsay,  Professor,  202,  205. 


360 


-INDEX. 


Lvsmore,  Book  of,  147,  341. 

Lismore,  Book  of  the  Dean  of,  288. 

Liutpraucl  of  Cremona,  180-185. 

Lohier  et  Mallart,  351. 

Loka  Senna,  277. 

Louis,  le  Roi,  851  sq, 

Lucian,  43,  70. 

Liudwigslied,  245,  352. 

Lyall,  Sir  Charles,  quoted,  15. 

Mahinogion,  336  sqq. 

MacCallnm,  Professor  M.  W.,  89, 

93. 
MacConglinne,    an    Irish    satirist, 

182. 
Mackail,  Mr  J.  W.,  346. 
Maelduin,  62. 
Magnus  Bareleg,  King  of  Norway, 

300. 
Magnus,  son  of  St  Olaf,  King  of 

Norway,  305. 
Maldon,  Lay  of  (Anglo-Saxon),  82, 

254. 
Marcolf,  89. 
Martianus  Capella,  25,  33,  34,  109, 

317. 
Marvell,  Andrew,  quoted,  94,  113, 
Massinger,  quoted,  113. 
Mazzei,  Lai)o,  105. 
Melville,   Mr  James,  on  the  death 

of  the  Earl  of  Moray,  76. 
Meyer,  Dr  Kuno,  61,  319,  323,  330, 

331. 
Milton,  235. 

Modus  Florum,  a  tune,  221,  227. 
Mommsen,  215. 
Morison,    James    Cotter,    on    the 

Middle  Ages,  3. 
"Motet,"  in  old  French,  221. 
Mousket,  Philippe,  351.  - 
Muspilli,  240  sq. 
Mythology,  41-73. 

Napier,  Professor,  286. 

Naso,  154. 

Nennius,  63. 

Nicephorus,  Emperor,  184  sq. 

Nithard,  174,  348. 

Norden,  die  antike  Kunstprosa,  34. 

Norway,  270  sqq.  ;  "Court-verse" 

in,  302. 
Notker  Balbulus  of  St  Gall,  author 

of  Seqmntice,  174,  192  sqq.,  219 

»22- 


Notker  Laheo,   al.  Teutonicus,  of 

St  Gall,  translator,  89,  316-318. 
Nutt,  Mr  Alfred,  61. 

Odd,  called  Arrow-Odd,  a  Norther 

hero  226  295. 
Odin,  49,  54,  91,'  273,  275  sq.,  301. 
Odyssey,  Irish,  824. 
Ohthere,  308,  809. 
Olaf,  St,  802. 
Orosius,  40,  309. 
Otfrid,  241-244. 
Otho  the  Great,  Emperor,  177-179, 

184. 
Otho  II.,  184,  188. 
Otho  III.,  198. 
Owein,  327. 

Paris,  Gaston,  73,  90,  351. 
Passion,  old  French,  348. 
Paulinus  of  Aquileia,  213. 
Paulus    Diaconus    (Paul,    son    of 

Warnefrid),  168-171. 
Paulus  Silentiarius,  346. 
Peredur,  337. 
Pervigilium  Veneris,  203. 
Petrarch,  his  allegory,  81. 
Philip  of  Macedon,  344. 
Phoenix,  262,  265. 
Photius,  347. 
Physiologtis,  94. 
Piers  Ploimnan,  230  sq.,  241. 
Placidas,  217  sq.,  307. 
Plato,  27,  29,  34,  70,  71,  107,  108. 
Plummer,  Mr  Charles,  141,  308. 
Poitou,  William,  Count  of,  6,  203, 

214,  215. 
Pope,  on  the  Dark  Ages,  2, 
Provencal  verse,  6,  7,  208,  215,  348. 
Pioclioprodromus,  346. 
Pwyll,  Prince  of  PJyved,  288,  338. 

Radeguud,  St,  123,  126. 
Raleigh,  Mr  W.  A.,  67  w.,  330. 
Ratherius  of  Verona,  178. 
Ratpert  of  St  Gall,  192  sqq.,  244. 
Renan,  90. 

Rhys,  Professor,  59,  65,  71,  333  sq. 
Richer,  187. 
Riddles,  90  sqq. 
Rigsthula,  279. 
Rodulphns  Glaher,  198. 
Roland(Hruodlandus),  173, 353-356. 
Romaic  verse,  343. 


INDEX. 


361 


Eomance  Tongue,  347  sc[. 
Ruin,  266. 
Riwdlieh,  226. 

St  Gall,  Monk  of  (possibly  Notker 
Balbulus),  author  of  book  on 
Charles  the  Great,  174-177. 

Salvius,  vision  of,  71 . 

Saxo  Grammaticus,  83,  297. 

"Saxon  Poet"  (Poeta  Saxo),  of  the 
Court  of  Charlemagne,  74. 

Saxon  poetry,  245  sqq. 

Scotish  Field,  an  alliterative  poem, 
231  sq.,  234. 

Seafarer,  265. 

Secundus  of  Trent,  171. 

Sedulius  Scottus,  160,  216. 

"  Sequentia,"  218  sqq. 

Shakespeare,  quoted,  62. 

Shetland,  91. 

Sidonius  Apollinaris,  124. 

Sievers,  Professor,  228,  256. 

Sigurd,  282,  290  sqq. 

Sigurd  Slembe,  300. 

Sigvat,  poet,  302. 

Skirnismdl,  281,  285. 

Solomon,  Abbot  of  St  Gall,  Bishop 
of  Constance,  193. 

Solomon  in  Middle  Ages,  73,  89. 

Spanish  ballad  {Bernardo  del  Car- 
pio),  quoted,  82. 

Spinoza,  110,  163, 

Stokes,  Mr  Whitley,  341. 

Sulpicius  Severus,  quoted,  24. 

Svipdag,  286. 

Swift,  his  Riddles,  90. 

Symphosius,  92. 

Taliesin,  334,  337. 
Tatian  in  German,  243,  317. 
Teutonic  verse,  2:30  sqq. 
Theodoric  the  Great,  112,  117,  137, 

238  ;  Didiik  of  Bern,  237. 
Theodorus  Prodromus,  345  sq. 
Theodulfus,    30,    122,    124,     153, 

172. 
Theophano,  Empress,  184,  198. 


Thor,  49,  52-54,  276  sq.,  284. 
Thorlak,    Bishop    of   Skalholt,   in 

Iceland,  136. 
Tliorodd,  Grammarian,  312. 
Thurneysen,  Professor,  32052-.,  330. 
Tiberianus,  203. 
Trivinm,  32. 

Tundal  (Tnugdalus),  vision  of,  72. 
Tuotilo  of  St  Gall,  192  sqq. 
Twilight  of  the  Gods,  57. 
Tylor,  Dr  Edward,  71. 

Ulfilas,  161,  307. 

Usnech,  the  Sons  of,  326  sq. 

Vaf]>rv.^nismdl,  274-276. 
Vatnsdcela  Saga,  incident  in,  305. 
Ventry,  Battle  of  (Catk  Finntraga), 

83. 
Vigfusson,  Dr  Gudbrand,  305.    See 

Corpus  Poeticion  Boreale. 
Volospd,  8,  240,  278. 
Volsimya  Saga,  282. 

Wade,  229. 

Waerferth,    Bishop    of  Worcester, 

310. 
Walafrid  Strabo,  159-161,  172,  307. 
Waldere,  249. 
Waltharius,  222  sqq. 
Wanderer,  265  sq. 
Weland,  286. 
Welsh  literature,  332-340. 
Wettin,  vision  of,  71,  159. 
Wessohrunn  Prayer,  240. 
Widsith,  254  sq. 
Widukind,  186  sq. 
William  of  Orauge,  155. 
Willibrord,  St,  152. 
Wolf,  F.  A.,  218. 
Wulfstan,    Archbishop    of    York 

312. 


Ynglingatal,  298. 
Ypotis  (Epictetus),  73,  88. 

Zimmer,  Professor,  Q^,  325. 


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